The Adventures of Ansley Holmes
by DisenchantedHeartache
Summary: Ansley Holmes has a colorful past, but her abilities to make deductions are just as good as both of her brother's. What was supposed to be a quick visit to Sherlock's flat quickly turns into more as she is roped into helping Sherlock and John solve crimes.
1. Chapter 1

I was on my way up to 221b when a man whom I presumed to be Doctor John Watson rushed past me while muttering his apologies. By the look of things he was irritated. Who could blame him? One generally becomes irritated when being around my brother all day. I made my way up to the flat.

"What have you done to my bloody wall?!" Mrs. Hudson had, no doubt had her flat fall victim to the work of a bored Sherlock. At least it wasn't the heroin again. "I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" She exclaimed when she walked past me. "Oh hello dear," she had caught a glimpse of me "Maybe you can cheer him up."

"Oh Mrs. Hudson, you and I both know that won't happen without a murder." She smiled at me and retreated downstairs. I had no longer gotten into the flat when I was unexpectedly thrown against the wall with great force.

There had been an explosion across the street. The windows were blown out and everything in the flat was disheveled. "Well Sherlock, this isn't exactly how I had pictured our visit going." I held my hand out waiting for him to help me up, and as always he was there.

"What exactly are you doing here Ansley?"

"Visiting my big brother. Did I not just say that?"

"You're not working for Mycroft again, are you? Wait-" He began to walk around me. I pursed my lips, knowing he was going to try and size me up as usual. "No, you're not. So that again begs the question of why you are here."

"I told you, Sherlock, I came for a visit. I was in the area."

He looked at me with his cold stare. He didn't believe a word I was saying. "Lovely, the police are here."

Detective Inspector Lestrade entered the room then. He and I weren't on the friendliest of terms. I greeted him with a nod and walked into the kitchen where another officer was present to take my statement of what happened. Given my state, I invited myself to stay for the evening knowing that Sherlock had upset Doctor Watson enough to know that he was not coming back this night.

The next morning the police were still all around the building across the street where the explosion had originated. Sherlock and I were in the living room, still not speaking when Mycroft gifted us with his presence.

"Hello Ansley. I hadn't expected to see you here."

"Mycroft." He wasn't there for me and our relationship, too, had been strained since he almost had me killed last year. Now wasn't the time for that however. He was here for Sherlock. He had a case and of course it would be of utmost importance.

For almost an hour I watched as the police worked diligently on investigating the explosion. Mycroft was rambling on about "National Importance". I noticed a cab pull up. Doctor Watson had returned. He had likely seen what had happened on the telly. He was ever fond of Sherlock. However strange his fascination was, at least I knew Sherlock was being taken care of.

A few moments later John burst through the door, "Sherlock. Sherlock!"

The men had stopped talking and we were all looking at a rather distressed and panicked John Watson. Still lazily messing with his Violin, Sherlock finally paid attention to John. "John." He said in a calmer tone than John's.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?"

"Gas leak." Sherlock and I said at the same time. This drew attention to myself and as if it were clockwork John asked for an introduction. I joined the men and extended my hand out to John, "Ansley Holmes, Dr. Watson. A pleasure." He shook my hand and had a quick glance at my brothers before looking back at me and letting go of my hand.

"I had no idea you had a sister, Sherlock. It's nice to meet you. And you know who I am?"

"Of course I do Dr. Watson. I follow your blog."

Mycroft and Sherlock resumed their conversation, "I can't." Sherlock said bluntly.

"'Can't'"

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock was still focused on his violin. He was also lying. Not only did I actually follow John's blog, but it was also written all over his face. He had nothing going on. The wall had suffered for that already. I remained quiet though. Mycroft never could pick up on Sherlock's lying.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of National Importance." Mycroft stated

Sherlock plucked on his violin, obviously ignoring Mycroft. "How's the diet?"

"Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him, John. I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

John was confused by everyone thinking that he had some sort of power over Sherlock and his decisions.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock asked.

"No, no, no, no, no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time- not with the Korean elections so.. Well now you don't need to know about that, do you?" He had left his seat and was closing in on the door, "Besides, a case like this – it requires… legwork."

Sherlock continued to ignore Mycroft with his violin, and evaluating the night that John had. "How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

"Sofa." I stated.

"Yes, sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." Mycroft chimed in.

"Yes, of course."

John looked at us. He was in disbelief that all three Holmes children had this incredible, yet very annoying, gift of deduction. "How…? Oh never mind."

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became… _pals_." Mycroft moved closer to the door, stopping to hand me a file. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

"I'm never bored." John mused.

"Good! That's good isn't it? Look over the file, find the plans. Don't make me order you. Goodbye Sherlock, John, Ansley. I'll be seeing you very soon." With that he left the flat.

I began to flip through the file. Andrew West, or "Westie" was a civil servant that had been found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning. His head had been bashed in.

"Jumped in front of train?" John chimed in. I had been unaware that I was talking aloud.

"Seems the logical explanation at first glance, but there are top secret missile plans that are missing. They were on a memory stick…" I was cut off by the sound of John's laughter.

"That wasn't very clever." He smiled, but his smile faded when he looked at my still very serious face.

"It wasn't the only copy, Dr. Watson. But they are apparently very important, and missing." I turned to Sherlock with expectations that he would begin working on the case. When he remained in his chair, both unmoving and uninterested I cleared my throat. "You lied. You have not a single case. So take this one."

"You don't know that I don't have a case." He threw a look my way.

"Don't I? Dr. Watson?"

John took a moment looking to me and then to Sherlock several times before sighing and siding with me. "She's right Sherlock. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

"Why shouldn't I?" His phone began to ring. When he answered John looked to me. I just shook my head, knowing I was about to get roped into something I would rather stay out of.

Sherlock hung up the phone and looked to John. "Lestrade. I've been summoned." He smiled wildly as he shot out of his chair. He was almost to the stairs when he asked John if he was coming along. John, of course, agreed and they were gone in a flash. No longer had I sat on the couch and began going through the file did I hear Sherlock's voice from downstairs, "Coming, sister?"


	2. Chapter 2

An envelope addressed to Sherlock Holmes was sitting on Lestrade's desk. He had just finished telling us that the explosion across the street had not been a gas leak. That explained why the police were there for so long this morning.

"So all that was left of the place was this envelope addressed to Sherlock?" I asked, knowing the answer already. On occasion I enjoyed feeling the way the rest of the world did. Lestrade never found it as amusing as I did and simply looked at me before carrying on his conversation.

"We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped."

"How reassuring." I mocked. Much louder than I had intended to. My sophistication was getting away from me. While Sherlock examined and opened his envelope, I took a moment to look around Lestrade's office. His desk was in complete disarray. His mind has been somewhere other than work for the past week at least. Lestrade was generally organized and most everything stayed the way it was. The picture of his wife was moved slightly, whatever was bothering him was likely to start with her.

"You have one new message." The voice alert from the cell phone that had been in the envelope snapped me back to reality. Everyone was fixated on Sherlock as he listened to the message that consisted of the Greenwich Time signal pips. There were five. It was a warning.

A photo message came through after that. Five pips and a picture that I couldn't make out from this distance. Sherlock's wish was about to come true.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" Lestrade's voice boomed through the office.

"It's a warning." Sherlock spat as he examined the photo message.

"A warning?" John asked. Though his question was genuine, I was becoming bored of the question game. I sighed and decided to explain.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips." I waited while everyone watched. No one seemed to be getting it. "They're warning us it's going to happen again."

Sherlock jumped up and ran to the door, "I've seen this place before."

John grabbed his coat ready to follow. "H-Hang on. What's gonna happen again?"

Sharing in my frustrations, Sherlock turned to John and moved his arms is large gesture, "Boom!"

Sherlock was already in a cab by the time I caught up to them. Lestrade grabbed my wrist, waving for them to go ahead. The cab pulled off. I faced Lestrade, wondering why it was he kept me behind. The only logical explanation was that he wanted to have a "serious conversation". We had far too many serious conversations for a casual affair.

I tried not to let my mind calm from the excitement in the office. This was the most fun I had in months since my "leave" from the Secret Service began. "What is it Greg?" I paid attention to the direction the cab was going in.

I had already started walking in the direction of Baker Street when the sound of my heels clicking along the concrete was met by the sound of Greg's shoes. "You aren't returning my calls."

"I've been busy." I picked up the pace as I made my way across the street. "I thought Jane had gotten better. Why have you been calling?"

He slowed his walk down. I did the same, assuming this was important. His voice was low, "I told her."

A smile crept, uncontrollably, over my face. I began to walk again, "Well Greg, I was beginning to think you didn't have it in you." I threw a glance back at him. We were almost to Baker Street now. "There will be no divorce I hope."

"Its been a long week, but she has agreed to work on things." He cleared his throat. How cute, he was breaking up with me. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…"

"This was never anything, Greg." I caught a look of surprise on his face, "Oh! Right, now I understand. You thought you were about to break my heart. Hoping that I would continue on, pining after you so that when it happens again, and you need a good shag, you could come back to me guilt free?"

In that moment the entire conversation changed. The sorrow in his voice turned to anger. "You know, you don't know everything Ansley Holmes. You may be just as good as Sherlock in deducing and solving crimes, but you don't know every bloody thing about me! Now this, this was real for me, but now its over and there won't be any coming back to you, for any reason." He began to walk back to the station, but he turned back to me, "I fell in love with you. This breaks my heart."

I turned away from him and finished my journey back to 221b Baker Street.


	3. Chapter 3

I finally found them at St. Bartholomew's Hospital in the morgue.

"Text from your brother." I heard John say as I entered the room.

Sherlock was looking at something in a microscope, he muttered "Delete it."

"Delete it?" John asked. I walked over taking the phone from him.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

I was going through his text messages, "He's texted you eight times. He thinks it's important."

Sherlock stifled a chuckle, "Then tell me sister, if it is so important, why didn't he cancel his dentist appointment?" He had been right.

"What?" John was confused, which knowing him the short amount of time I had, I wasn't at all surprised by this.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" The computer beeped after that causing Sherlock to move with excitement.

Molly Hooper, the main technician in the morgue welcomed herself into the room then. Not long after, a man named Jim entered the room as well. The way he moved and the way he spoke lead me to find it hard to believe that he would be interested in Molly, or any other woman for that matter. Sherlock and I both muttered the only descriptive word we could. "Gay" No one heard me, but their proximity to Sherlock made Molly's ear peak.

After the man had left, first confirming a date with Molly later that night, an obvious ploy, Molly began asking Sherlock what he meant. Dodging the question he brought attention to the amount of weight she had gained. No one could ever call him a liar.

The conversation and explanation of Jim's sexual orientation ended with Sherlock providing Molly with the phone number Jim had conveniently slipped under a bowl to Sherlock's right. Molly, being clearly upset saw her way out of the room.

Once she was gone, John saw fit to scold Sherlock on his behavior, "Charming, well done."

Sherlock rolled his eyes momentarily, "Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?"

"Kinder? No, no Sherlock. That," he pointed toward the door molly had left out of, "wasn't kind."

Sherlock ignored John's scolding and inviting him to take a look. In between fighting about John's ability to be a fresh eye to Sherlock's investigating they took the time to fill me in on finding the trainers that were sitting next to the computer and the woman that was being held hostage. John voiced his opinion on how poorly Sherlock was treating the woman's current situation.

The bickering went on until Sherlock made his shocking discovery. "Carl Powers"

I dropped what I was doing, "What?" I asked, almost disbelieving what I had heard.

"Sorry, who?" John asked.

"Carl Powers, John. It's where I began."

We hailed a cab and got on our way back to their flat.

The entire ride was explaining to John who Carl Powers was, and why the event surrounding his death had always seemed like more than a simple drowning to Sherlock. Mycroft and I had always assumed he was trying to make more of it than there was. Everyone else had felt the same. These shoes would seem to have proved him right.

Back at the flat John was making a fuss over wanting to help do something knowing that we were running out of time. We knew there was a woman being held hostage, and our lack of enthusiasm about saving her seemed to bother him a great deal.

John's mobile went off, "Your brother. He's texting me now." He pulled his phone away from his face. "How does he know my number?"

"May I?" I asked while reaching for his phone. He handed it over. Mycroft was asking him about the West case. "What d'you think, Sherlock? Root canal?" I mused while sending a message back.

"Root canal." He agreed.

I returned the phone back to John and decided to check my own. Mycroft had been texting me as well. These were more demanding than the ones John, or even Sherlock, had received. "Get him to find the plans." "Do it NOW, Ansley." "This is more important than anything he has now." In the sea of Mycroft's texts there were a few from Greg. Our early conversation had not satisfied him. "Dinner. Tonight. We need to talk." I decided it was best not to reply.

"I'm putting my best man onto it right now." Sherlock stated.

"Right. Good!" John exclaimed, then he cleared his throat "Who's that?"

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at him. John, though he lacked basic observation skills, was the best man Sherlock had. "Go with him." He commanded once John had left the room.

"What did Lestrade keep you back for?" John asked, attempting to break the somewhat uncomfortable silence between us.

I smiled to myself as I looked out the window of the cab. I looked at John for a moment. Until now, I had never looked at him directly. He was rather attractive. I snapped myself back to reality, "He decided to break off our affair, Dr. Watson."

He was taken slightly aback. "Affair… Really?" He took a moment to process the information "Please, just call me John." I nodded indicating that I would do as he asked. I watched as he shifted in his seat. It was doubtful that he had expected me to be so honest.

The rest of the cab ride was silent, words only being exchanged when John opened my door for me. We had arrived in the one place I had hoped we would avoid. Mycroft's office.


	4. Chapter 4

The meeting with Mycroft had been boring. He reminded me on several instances that this was not anything that I _had_ to help with, which at first I had associated with my current leave in employment.

"My injuries are none of your concern. I am more than capable of keeping up with Sherlock."

"You're right, your injuries are not my concern, sister dear."

I smiled at him knowing exactly why he didn't want me to help. The Secret Service had a reputation, and it wasn't a good one. His concern was not for me or whether I could keep up, but what I would do with the missile plans if I were to find them instead of Sherlock.

"I don't enjoy putting people in danger." With that I left John to continue his questioning. When he was finished he met me outside and hailed a cab for us.

The whole ride back to Baker Street was uncomfortable. The question was almost falling out of John's mouth, yet he wouldn't ask. I felt it best to keep quiet.

"Poison." Sherlock stated plainly as Mrs. Hudson, John, and I all entered the room.

"What are you going on about?" Mrs. Hudson asked, setting some tea down on the table. It had been a long day and the tea was a welcome break.

"Clostridium botulinum!" Sherlock boomed from the living room.

"One of the deadliest poisons on the planet. And undetectable if it isn't looked for." I added in.

"Wait, so you're saying that Carl Powers was murdered?" John gushed.

Sherlock went into detail about Carl having eczema and the killer, most likely our bomber, had introduced the poison into Carl's medicine, ultimately causing his drowning.

"Right, then. You've solved the mystery. How do you let the bomber know?" I questioned. The number that had called before was unknown, as the men had told me earlier.

It was clockwork. The mobile rang, on the other end was the woman. She was allowed to ask for rescue.

We, rather I, had received word that the woman was found and that she was safe now. I also received another invitation for dinner. I respectfully declined.

"Sherlock, I do believe it is time for me to go home now." It was later than I had hoped and despite the fact that Mycroft would pester me to make sure Sherlock was working on his missile case I was ready to get myself out of this crazy situation.

"You should stay here tonight." He gestured to the back of the flat, "You can take my bed."

"And clothes?" I knew why he wanted me to stay. The bomber was keeping a close eye on him, meaning he was keeping a close eye on all of us. "I didn't plan on staying last night, I didn't bring anything else to wear. You had to loan me pajamas."

"John will take you." I looked over at John. His expression was nonchalant, he wasn't going to mind this venture.

"I find you interesting." John called from the living room of my flat.

"Is that so, Dr. Watson?" I called back while packing necessities for a long stay.

John entered my room then, "It is. You are similar, yet so different to Sherlock. You long for human interaction. That's why you came for a visit when you did. Your relationship with Lestrade had ended. You were lonely and you needed someone to be around."

His words, however shocking to hear, were true. "Well done, John. Is that the only reason I interest you?" I placed my bag on the bed, moving closer to John.

"Um, well. You…" He began to let his nerves get the best of him as I closed the space between us, leaving barely a foot. "You, are much neater than Sherlock is…" He stumbled over his words looking for any other reason than the truth.

I smiled at him momentarily and his eyes wondered over me, "Excuse me, John." I whispered in his ear. It took him a moment, but he finally comprehended what I had said and moved out of the way. "Oh! I'm sorry."

I made my way down the hall to the bathroom, smiling wickedly at what had just transpired.

The next morning we found ourselves in Lestrade's office again. I was sitting behind his desk. The picture of his wife had been straightened. As a matter of fact, his whole desk had been cleaned. He still didn't go home last night.

The mood in the room changed when the mobile rang. This time there were only four Greenwich Time pips. The first test had been passed. A picture of, what appeared to be and abandoned car came through in the photo messenger.

"I'll check if its been reported." Greg rushed to his desk, I slid out of the way. Within this time a female officer came in.

She held a phone out to Sherlock, "Freak, its for you."

Sherlock took the phone from her and placed it on speaker. There was a man's voice. He was shaken, and another borrowed voice. He relayed that we had eight hours to solve this mystery.

Greg had located the car and just like that we were off. I went in Greg's car while Sherlock and John took a cab.

"You refused to meet me for dinner."

"It is pointless to drag this out." I looked at him, "It broke your heart? You're the married one. Be reasonable. Go home. Work things out with your wife."

The rest of the car ride was filled with silence and failed attempts from Greg to say something to me.

When we arrived I found the woman from earlier talking to John. Donovan was her name, I had worked with her previously while I was still stationed at New Scotland Yard. She was also having an affair with the lead medical examiner, Anderson. When John had finished talking to her, he went and found Sherlock. I, however, was not a fan of how she spoke to my brother and it was time for us to have a chat. Woman to woman.

I pulled her to the side. She looked all but amused, "What is it now Holmes?"

"I rather dislike when my family is disrespected, especially in front of me." She opened her mouth to speak but I put my hand up to stop her, "You and Anderson are doing really well. His wife is away a lot and doesn't suspect that you spend more time in her bed than she does, but she will if you speak to my brother in that manner again. I will give her every reason to distrust her husband, and I will make it look as if you did it all. I will take everything away from you. My brother is to be respected as anyone else you work with. Is that understood?" I straightened my posture and my skirt, waiting for a reply "You may speak now."

She glared at me for no more than a moment and left to rejoin the rest of the police force. They were gathered around the car while Sherlock investigated the inside. To the untrained eye, this would appear to be a cut and dry case. Missing driver, car abandoned with what appears to be the driver's blood covering the seat. There was something more though. The bomber would not have directed Sherlock here if it were that simple.

When Sherlock had finished his investigation, he made an attempt to talk to the missing man's wife. There wasn't much there, except for her referring to her husband in the past tense. Sherlock had started and she picked up almost immediately.

After he got what he needed from her we were walking back to the opening of the dock where the car had been dumped, Sherlock flashed a card to Janus Cars that he swiped from the glove compartment. And we were off again.

"Sherlock," I said as we passed time in the cab, "We have an eye on Janus Cars as well. This could be big for everyone."

He wasn't interested. My work with the Secret Service had always felt like a waste of talent to him. We should all waste away working on nonsense cases and barely paying our bills.

Investigating at Janus Cars didn't take long. Sherlock knew what he was looking for while talking to Mr. Ewert, the last person to interact with Mr. Monkford, our missing man.

"Mr. Ewert is a liar." Sherlock said as we entered another cab. The mobile rang again. This time Sherlock kept it personal. "The clue is in the name," he said when the call ended.


	5. Chapter 5

We were almost back to the flat when the clue the bomber had given became apparent to me. "Sherlock?" He ignored me. "Sherlock!"

"What?!" He looked from the window back to me.

"The clue is in the name… Janus. The God with two faces." I said smiling.

His eyes lit up when he realized what I was saying. "Brilliant!" he mused, "New Scotland Yard instead." He said to the cabbie.

Within minutes we were all storming into Lestrade's office, again. Greg was startled by our intrusion. "What the bloody hell are you three doing here? Didn't you just leave?"

"How much blood was on that seat, would you say?" Sherlock asked him.

"How much? About a pint." He stood up from his chair.

"Not 'about'. Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood is definitely Ian Munkford's but it's been frozen.

"Now how you could you possible know it's been frozen?"

Sherlock sighed and continued, "There are clear signs. I think Ian Munkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago,"

Greg cut him off, "And that is what was spread over the seat. But who did it?"

"Janus Cars." I chimed in. "The clue is in the name."

"The God with two faces. That is what you were talking about earlier." John said.

I nodded to him while Sherlock continued on, "They provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of a problem – money troubles, bad marriage, whatever – Janus Cars will help you disappear. Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble – financial, at a guess; he's a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver's seat..."

"So where is he?" John asked.

"Columbia."

"Columbia?!" Lestrade was flabbergasted.

"Mr. Ewert of Janus cars had a twenty thousand Columbian peso note in his wallet, and quite a bit of change, too."

"He said he hadn't been abroad. I assumed he was lying." I stated.

"When I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly."

"No one wears a shirt in a sunbed. This makes sense. Especially with his arm now that I think about it."

"His arm?" Greg asked.

"He kept scratching it. Obviously irritated him, and bleeding." Sherlock continued on before anyone else could interrupt him, "Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Columbia. Mrs Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars."

"Mrs. Monkford?" John asked.

"Oh yes, she's in on it too." Sherlock turned to Greg, "Now go and arrest them, Inspector. We need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved." Sherlock began leaving the office, "I am on fire!" He yelled.

Sherlock was successful in reaching the bomber through his rather ridiculous website.

John and I were sitting in the living room as Sherlock was pacing around waiting for another call. "Fancy some lunch?" He asked me as he stood.

I stood too, "That would be wonderful. Sherlock?"

Still pacing he waved his hand at us. He would never eat and work.

We left Sherlock in the flat and headed down to Speedy's. John figured it would be close enough for us to relax and still be able to rush back if Sherlock contacted us with anything new.

John went on about how long the day had been and how he had never done anything like this with Sherlock before. All of their cases had been rather short or if they weren't short they had a longer amount of time to work. The more he spoke the more I became fascinated with him. He interested me, perhaps not the same way I interested him, but there was something there.

"Feeling better?" I asked after he had eaten half of his meal. I however had barely touched mine. Something felt off about this whole ordeal.

John made a light humming noise for a moment, "You realize we have hardly stopped for a breath since this thing started?" I nodded with an apologetic smile. Perhaps John had picked up on what I was feeling. "Has it occurred to you, or him for that matter, that the bomber is playing a game with him? The envelope; breaking into the other flat; the dead kid's shoes – It's all meant for him."

"John, if you've noticed and if I have noticed, you know he knows."

"D'you think it is Moriarty?"

"The man from your blog? Sherlock's biggest fan? Could be." I heard a familiar voice over the telly. Connie Prince. I wasn't big on watching television, but I did enjoy watching her make-overs every once in a while.

John's mobile went off, a text from Sherlock. It was time to go.

When we arrived back upstairs, Sherlock was listening as an older woman spoke. Another hostage no doubt. "I'll give you… twelve hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked.

"I like to watch you dance." The phone hung up then.

He showed John and me the photo, Connie Prince. How convenient.

The three of us ended up at the morgue, with Greg, again. For two people who had recently ended a yearlong affair, we were spending more time with each other than before. I, for one, would be glad when all of this was over. Being the prim and proper woman I was raised to be, I made sure that none of my distain for our current situation was visible.

Sherlock was examining the body while Greg stayed toward the back with me. John and Sherlock concluded that the cut that supposedly introduced the tetanus into her system, the same tetanus that was the cause of her death, was made post mortem.

"How did the tetanus enter her system?" Sherlock turned to John, "You both want to help, right?"

John answered for both of us, "Yes, of course."

"Connie Prince's background – family history, everything. Give me data."

"Off I go." I smiled at Greg before pushing myself away from the counter and following John out of the room.

"Does he know, then?" John asked as I was catching up to him.

"Who Sherlock? About Greg and I." I took a moment. "He must, but my private affairs are really none of his business. Plus, he doesn't care about trivial things."

"Yes. Just like he didn't care to know the Earth revolved around the Sun."

"That is my brother, John. I assumed you would know this by now."


	6. Chapter 6

John and I decided that the best way to get Sherlock the data he wanted was to go straight to the source. Kenny Price.

We were lead into a small sitting room by Mr. Price. We took a seat while he stood, rather posed, by the mantle. "We're devastated. Of course we are." Kenny started.

"Could I get you anything, sir? Ma'am?" A second man asked us. I assumed he was the houseboy.

John looked to me and I shook my head, "No, no thank you." He answered. A cat had jumped into my lap and made its way over to John.

"Raoul is my rock. I don't think I could have managed." Kenny said as Raoul left the room. "We didn't always see eye to eye, but my sister was very dear to me."

The cat returned after John had, awkwardly moved it out of the way. "And – and to the public Mr. Prince." He assured Kenny.

"Oh she was adored. I've seen her take girls that looked like the end of Routemasters and turn them into princesses," he paused for a moment, "Still, it's a relief in a way to know she is beyond this veil of tears."

Despite all efforts, the cat had returned itself to John's lap and made itself comfortable. "Absolutely." I spoke up with a sympathetic smile.

John began to talk about the events surrounding Connie's death. "Its more common than people think. The tetanus in the soil, people cut themselves on rose bushes, garden forks, that sort of thing. If left un…" John trailed off as Kenny plopped down beside him. The sofa was really only big enough for two, so my decision to get up a while early to look around the room had been good for me, but had placed john in yet another awkward situation. "Treated…" he continued.

Kenny cut him off rather quickly, "I don't know what I'm going to do now. I mean she has left me this place, which is lovely, but its just not the same without her."

I rejoined the two, "That's why our paper wanted to get the full story straight from the horse's mouth. You're sure it isn't too soon?"

Kenny redirected his attention to me, "No." he stated plainly. He fancied John.

"Right," John said while pulling out his notepad and a pen.

Kenny focused on John again. "You fire away." He said, almost seductively.

The cat had moved itself off John's lap and ran across the room. John rubbed his nose, returning his hand there to sniff. "Would you, um, excuse us for a moment?"

Kenny nodded and nodded for me to come with him outside. There he phoned Sherlock and told him to bring a camera and be quite quick. He wouldn't tell me what he was onto, but I suspected he thought it had something to do with the cat. I couldn't tell, so I knew it would be best to wait for Sherlock.

We went back in the house and decided to have some tea. We talked endlessly about Connie's show and exactly how Kenny had felt about his sister badgering him. I didn't think he was the one that killed her. He was too upset. A killer is never genuinely upset and to fake it is even harder.

Finally Sherlock arrived, rushing through the kitchen, "That'll be him." John said putting his tea cup on the table and standing up.

Kenny, who was fixing his hair in the mirror turned abruptly. "What?"

Sherlock introduced himself and gave what he would consider condolences. He and John came back to the couch, preparing the camera and giving John enough time to tell Sherlock that the bacteria had entered her body another way. He then proceeded to take awful pictures of Kenny until the cat began rubbing up against his leg.

"Oh, who's this?" Sherlock asked looking down at the feline.

"Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian Goddess." Kenny answered.

"How nice! Was she Connie's?" Sherlock continued.

"Yes." Kenny answered while reaching down to pick her up, "Little present from yours truly."

John signaled for Sherlock to set the flash off giving him a chance to touch the cat's paws, smelling his hand afterward.

Through Kenny's yelling, John announced our departure "Actually, I think we've got what we came for. Excuse us." He began to leave the room, grabbing my hand to lead me out in the process, "Sherlock." He called, "We've got deadlines."

Once we were outside, he let go of my hand and began to get excited, "Yes!" He exclaimed. "Oh yes." He was laughing as we made our way down the street.

"You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat." Sherlock explained.

John's look went from that of a lottery winner to someone who had just been told there was no Santa, "What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant."

"It's a wonderful idea, Dr. Watson." I added.

"No," he began to get flustered, "he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet, bound to be jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have…"

Sherlock cut him off, "I thought of it the moment I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random, too clever for the brother."

"It wasn't the brother, Sherlock. He was too genuine."

John looked at me. "It had to be, he murdered her sister for her money."

"Did he?" I asked.

"Didn't he?" He questioned back.

"No." Sherlock answered. "It was revenge."

"Revenge? Who wanted revenge?" John asked. His voice getting higher pitched.

"Raoul." Sherlock and I chimed at the same time, he continued from there. "Kenny Price was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had become accustomed to a certain lifestyle…"

"No, wait, wait," John stood in front of us making us stop. "Wait a second. What about the disinfectant on the cat's claws?"

"Raoul keeps a very clean house. We came in through the kitchen, saw the floor. It was scrubbed to within an inch of its life. We smell of disinfectant." I told him.

Sherlock continued on, "The cat doesn't come into it." We began walking again finally reaching the end of the street, "but Raoul's internet records do. I hope we can get a cab from here."

Instead of going with the men, I opted to get another cab and return to Sherlock and John's flat. I did smell of disinfectant and it was overbearing to me. I was in desperate need of a shower.

Once I was showered, they still hadn't returned. I was starving, so I figured I would make dinner and hopefully they would be back by then. Of course they were out of everything except for a head, so I was going to have to take a trip to the market.

When I returned, they were back but there was something off. Both looked upset and when I asked if either of them wanted something to eat, Sherlock went to his room and John sat in his chair and declined. I was no longer as hungry as I thought I was.

I sat in Sherlock's chair across from John. "What's wrong?"

He refused to look at me. He just stared at the wall. After a few moments he broke the silence, "He killed her."

"The hostage?"

"Yes the bloody hostage!" he snapped, "She was an old woman, too." He was glaring at me, "But that means nothing to him, or to you, does it?!" He stormed upstairs, returning a few minutes later.

I was still seated, in awe of what had just happened. The old woman had died and somehow it was my fault that Sherlock didn't care. Or so he thought. He sat across from me again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He almost whispered. "It's… It's been a long day and now a woman has been murdered."

"Its fine, Dr. Watson." I was unintentionally cold to him. "I'm sure my brother cares more than he lets on. This probably isn't easy for him either."

"I've asked that you call me John," he joked trying to get his apology across, "Are you staying here tonight."

"Sherlock would prefer I did," I finally looked at him.

"Right. It seems he has gone to bed. You can have my bed, I'll take the couch." He smiled at me.

"Thank you, John. I don't want to be an inconvenience. I'll take the couch." I realized that all my clothes were locked in Sherlock's room. "Could I ask for a favor?"

John returned downstairs with a pair of pajama bottoms, a shirt, and a jumper. "It gets cold sometimes, I brought the jumper just in case. I grabbed a pillow and blanket, too. It isn't a problem for me to take the couch."

I thanked him again for the offer and for the clothing. He was back upstairs when I came out of the bathroom. The couch wasn't so terrible, and sleep was welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up much later than I was accustomed to. The news was playing in the background, but I woke to the sound of John and Sherlock fighting. By the time I opened my eyes it seemed they had finished whatever it was they were fighting about. From John's outburst last night, I could only assume it was about the woman that had died. Not only that, but that was the top news story of the hour.

"Don't make people into heroes John. Hero's don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

John looked at me, just now realizing I was awake. He was about to speak when the bomber's mobile went off.

"Excellent!" Sherlock's voice boomed through the flat. "View of the Thames. South bank – somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo. You check the papers, I'll look online." John looked away from me and glared at Sherlock. "Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help." His voice was considerably lower than before. He was mocking him.

"Oh stop it Sherlock. I'll check the bloody papers." I sat up, promptly scooting over to have a better choice of papers. John sat next to me and grabbed a paper.

"Archway suicide." John said.

"Ten a penny," Sherlock mumbled.

"Ah. Man found on the train line, Andrew West."

"Nothing!" Sherlock boomed again. He dialed a number, Lestrade's I suspected as he was asking about the photo.

They were off in a matter of minutes. I opted to stay behind, telling Sherlock I would look further into the West case. He was adamant about me not leaving the flat, but he also knew Mycroft was getting impatient.

After lunch I changed and headed out to West's fiancé's house. John had told me that West was there the night he died.

I knocked on the door and a woman answered. "Lucy? I'm Ansley Holmes. I'm investigating the death of your fiancé, Andrew West."

She was taken aback for a moment. "Oh? Come in please."

Lucy led me into the sitting room and offered me a place on the couch. "He wouldn't do it. He just wouldn't."

"Stranger things have happened."

She was visible angered by my statement, "Westie wasn't a traitor. It's a horrible thing to say!"

I had heard the same thing several times from my work in the secret service. Parents not wanting to believe their children were murderers, wives saying their husbands could be capable of despicable acts, "I'm sorry. But you must understand that's…"

"That's what they think, isn't it, his bosses?"

"He was a young man, about to get married. He had debts…" I looked down at my hands.

For the first time, I was hoping this man was who she believed he was. She had so much faith in him, "Everyone's got debts, Ms. Holmes, and Westie wouldn't want to clear them by selling out his country."

"Could you just tell me about exactly what went on that night?"

She looked to the mantle, "We were just having a night in. Just watching a DVD." She looked back at me, "He normally falls asleep, you know, but he sat through this one. He was quiet. Out of the blue, he said he had to go and see someone."

This was what I had been waiting for, "And you've no idea who?"

She shook her head and we sat in silence for a moment as she cried. She loved this man dearly.

"I believe I have everything I need from you Lucy. I should be on my way."

She led me back outside where greeted by a man with a bicycle, "Oh, hi Luce. You okay, love?"

She smiled at the man, "Yeah."

"Who's this?" The man asked.

"Ansley Holmes. Hello." I extended my hand to him, he only looked me up and down.

"This is my brother, Joe. Ansley is trying to figure out what happened to Westie too, Joe." Lucy told him.

"You with the police?" Joe shook my hand.

"Something like that, yeah." I said.

"Well, tell 'em to get off their arses, will you? Its bloody ridiculous."

"I'm doing my best." With that Joe went into the house, throwing one more dirty look my way. I straightened myself and cleared my throat, "Thank you very much for your help. And again, I am very, very sorry."

As I began to walk away she called after me, "He didn't steal those things, Ms. Holmes. I knew Westie, he was a good man. He was my good man." She started to cry and retreated back inside.

By the time I got back to the flat, it was late. Sherlock was already in bed. John was still up, "I was waiting for you to get back. Sherlock was worried."

"Sherlock was worried?" I questioned.

John became slightly flushed, "He had mentioned it."

I smiled at him, "I think I may shower. Would it be okay for me to use the clothes you loaned me last night, again?"

He smiled and nodded, "Yeah, go ahead. I think I may be up for a while, is that going to bother you?"

"No, John. I'm not in the mood to go to sleep either."

After my shower, John was still in his chair typing on his blog. He stopped as soon as I entered the room. "Please, don't let me distract you." I said as I curled into Sherlock's chair.

"I'd rather talk to you instead of type all night."

"How are things with," Her name had escaped me.

"Sarah? They're fine." He looked away. "Talked to Greg any?"

I chuckled a bit, "No. That's why I stayed back today. I'm tired of seeing him."

My bluntness cause a laugh out of John. "Would you like my bed tonight?"

"Thank you, but the couch is fine."

He smiled and nodded.

I asked him about the case. Sherlock had obviously solved it in time. He told me the newly found Vermeer painting had been a fake. The security guard had known it was a fake and a golem was hired to take him out. It had been a kid this time, he said. I found myself wincing at the thought. I had never been found of them, but children being in danger didn't sit well with me.

We continued to talk for several hours, not noticing that time was passing as fast as it was. Talking to John was nice. My fascination with him grew. The dawn had broken and I was still awake. John had went to bed a few hours before, but I couldn't sleep.

"First Lestrade and now John. Is no one safe from you?" Sherlock mocked walking into the sitting room.

I looked at him, "I'm not trying to sleep with John."

He sat in John's chair as I was still bunched in his. "Anything about West?"

"I thought you weren't interested?" He only stared at me, "His fiancé said they were having a night in when West unexpectedly left. I'm going to have a look at the tracks today. Mycroft is getting ill."

"Good," he said. "Take John with you."

"Take John where?" John asked as he entered the room.

"Still investigating that West case for Mycroft. Care to come with me?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure."

We arrived at Battersea Station a little after noon. There was a tube guard who showed us where we needed to be. Once we were there, I let John do most of the detective work. Eventually he realized that West couldn't have been killed on the line. Sherlock showed up. He had been on the case the entire time. I suppose he just wanted to see what John and I could do without him.

"Come on," Sherlock said as he walked away. "Got a bit of burglary to do."

We ended up at Joe Harrison's flat, Lucy's brother. While we were inside having a look around, he came home. Once he saw us, he knew we had him. We took him into the sitting room. He sat down, a nervous wreck. We all remained standing.

"It wasn't meant to..." he paused, placing his head in his hands, "God. What is Lucy going to say? Jesus."

"Why did you kill him?" John asked.

Joe went into a long story about how he had started to deal drugs and that he was in trouble. How he had found out about the missile plans from West at his engagement party. Once he had got him drunk enough he was able to take the plans right off of him. But when he saw him later, he knew that West knew he had taken them. Joe had accidentally pushed West down the stairs, killing him. He later moved his body onto the top of a train. All would have gone well if the track hadn't curved, throwing West's body off.

Sherlock had Joe fetch the memory stick for us. Then we left.

We went back to the flat. I gathered my things out of Sherlock's room and returned John's clothes to him. Sherlock was watching the telly, some horrid show John had shown him, and John was typing away on his blog.

"I'm going to go home, Sherlock. We haven't heard anything else from Moriarty. I think this is over."

"I agree." John said, closing his computer and getting up, "I won't be 'round for tea. I'm heading to Sarah's." He looked to me, "Walk you out, then?"

I nodded. "Goodbye Sherlock. See you soon."

John stayed back a moment to tell Sherlock that they needed milk, then he continued to walk me out. "Good night then." He smiled at me.

"Good night, John."

We both began on our separate ways when everything went black.


	8. Chapter 8

When I came to, I was in a room that smelled of chlorine. My hands had been bound tightly. There was a man standing in front of me. His back was turned, and my vision was still a little blurry. I tried to move my body, but everything hurt. My feet were heavier than usual.

I heard a door open and close. Everything went silent for a moment. The man pulled me to my feet and walked me closer to the door. I almost fell several times. He kept whispering threats in my ear.

"I will kill you right now if you don't move faster." His voice rang through my head. He pulled me harder, causing me to wince with pain.

Then I heard another voice. A more familiar voice. Sherlock. He was coaxing the man out of our hiding spot. Then everything went silent.

"John. What the hell…?" I heard Sherlock say. They had John too. They must have grabbed us as soon as we separated. Should have stayed at the flat.

I could hear as the man who had me kept speaking, but he was never speaking to me. "I can stop John Watson too. I can stop his heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock demanded.

The door opened a bit, the man grabbed my arm again. Harder each time he had to. "I gave you my number, I thought you might call." I knew who it was now. Jim, Molly's "boyfriend".

He walked out of the door, revealing himself, and puling me along with him. As we walked along the edge of the pool, my vision began to clear. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Jim asked.

"Both" Sherlock responded. He took the gun out of his pocket and pointed it a Jim, glancing at me for a moment.

Jim stopped walking, "Jim Moriarty. Hi!" We began moving again. Each step getting harder and harder for me as my legs felt weighted down. "Jim? Jim from the hospital? Oh? Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."

Sherlock looked between John and I. A red dot appeared on my chest.

"Don't be silly," Jim said, "Someone else is holding the riffle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." We came to a stop, still next to the pool, behind John. Sherlock was still facing us. My heart rate sped up, involuntarily. My life had been in danger many times, but drowning was my biggest fear. I made the connection to how heavy my legs felt and how close to the pool we were staying.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see, just like you."

Sherlock began mocking him, "'Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?' 'Dear Jim. Will you please fix it for me to disappear to South America?'"

"Just so." Jim muse.

"Consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock aimed more.

"Isn't it?" Jim said. He forced me down, whispering for me to put my feet in the water. The dot moving now to the side of my head. "No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

Sherlock cocked the gun, "I did."

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."

"Thank you." Sherlock blurted.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

"Yeah, okay. I did." Jim's voice getting higher pitched. "But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now!" He practically sang the last bit. His footsteps began moving away from me. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid to get you to come out to play." The footsteps stopped. "So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." He began to move again, "Although I have loved this – this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T. Playing gay. Did you like that little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died." Sherlock stated.

"That's what people DO!" Jim's voice echoed through the gym. This caused me to jump and sliding a little more into the pool.

"I will stop you."

"No you won't." Jim said nonchalantly.

"You all right?" His voice was low, he was talking to John.

Jim's footsteps moved faster, "You can talk Johnny-boy. Go ahead."

I didn't hear anything from John. "What about your precious baby sister? Go ahead, darling. Tell your brother you're okay."

I didn't say anything. I didn't want to move. Jim began yelling again, "TELL HIM!"

"I'm fine, Sherlock." My voice was shaky.

"Take it." Sherlock blurted.

"Huh?" Moriarty turned his attention back to Sherlock, "Oh! That! The missile plans. Boring! I could have got them anywhere." I heard a plop in the pool.

There was a lot of commotion, I turned to see what was going on. "Sherlock! Run!" John screamed. He had taken hold of Moriarty. Sherlock only stood there.

Moriarty laughed "Good! Very Good!"

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." John said angrily.

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then, people do get sentimental about their pets. They're so touching, so loyal. But oops!" Moriarty laughed again. "You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson." A red dot appeared on Sherlock's forehead. There were snippers all around the area. We would be lucky if he didn't kill us all. "Gotcha!"

John moved back rapidly. He shot a glance at me. There was fear in his eyes.

Moriarty straightened himself up. The mark had moved off of Sherlock's head. There was still one visible on John's chest.

"D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone Sherlock, to you?"

"Oh, let me guess: I get killed."

"Kill you? N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you one day anyway. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you." His voice got deeper, "I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock mused.

"I think we both know that's not quite true." Jim looked back at me. To be honest, everyone looked back at me. My eyes met Sherlock's. He was defeated. "Well, I'd better be off. So nice to have a proper chat."

"What if I were to shoot you now? Right now?" Sherlock asked.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. 'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock, I really would. And just a teensy bit," he paused for a moment. "Disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." Jim walked out of the door next to John and Sherlock.

We all waited for a moment after the door closed before making a move. I had wiggled the weights off of my feet. My arms had been zip-tied at the elbow. I was able to throw my legs over. Sherlock had pulled the bombs off of John and slid them across the floor.

Sherlock ran out of the room. John could hardly stand. He rested against the wall. When Sherlock came back in, he was still holding his gun. He made his way over to me, helping me up. We regrouped with John.

"Are you all right?" He asked us. When we didn't answer he asked again, yelling slightly, and very panicked. "Are you all right!"

"Yes." I told him. I sat down next to John. "Are you okay?" I asked Sherlock.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine." He wasn't fine. "That, er... thing that you, er, that you did. That, um... you offered to do. That was, um... good." He mumbled to John.

"I'm glad no one else saw that." John joked.

"Hm?" Sherlock asked.

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

"People do little else." Sherlock said.

John began to stand when the red marks appeared on all of us again. There were more this time.

"Sorry, dears! I'm so…" Jim walked back into the room from a door farther back. "Changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to fair to myself, it is my only weakness."

Sherlock refused to look at him. John's breathing was heavy. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"You can't be allowed to continue, " Jim continued, "You just can't. I would try to convince you but… everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

Sherlock turned. He pointed his gun back at Jim, "Probably my answer has crossed yours." He pointed the gun at the explosives he took off of John.

We stayed in silence for a moment. John's weight getting heavier, I realized that I was holding him up.

A song I didn't recognize started playing. Looking to Jim, his expression is one of anger and frustration. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, the music getting louder. "D'you mind if I get that?"

"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life." Sherlock said nonchalantly.

Moriarty answered the phone. He began yelling at the caller. Threating them. Finally he pulled the phone away from his ear. Getting closer to the bomb that Sherlock was still aiming at, he looked up slowly. "Sorry. Wrong day to die." He said, turning away from us and moving back to the door that he had entered from, "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock."

He snapped his fingers and the marks disappeared, and he was gone. John released the breath he had been holding, "Well. What happened there?"

"Someone changed his mind. The question is: who?" Sherlock answered.


	9. Chapter 9

Some time had passed since the incident with Moriarty. I had finally gone back to work, leaving my position in the Secret Service and taking an office job with Mycroft. Since my last visit, I had not been back to Sherlock and John's flat. That didn't mean that I wasn't keeping my tabs on them, however. My brother and his companion had been in the public eye more and more these days.

"I need you to retrieve him, Ansley." Mycroft was seated in a chair in his office.

"I will send some agents to do so. He won't come for you or me."

"Get it done." Mycroft left before me.

Returning to my office, I put two large, male agents on the task of getting Sherlock and sent a helicopter to get John from a crime scene he had been investigating. I made my way to Buckingham Palace to wait with Mycroft for them to arrive.

"Here to see the Queen?" I heard John ask as Mycroft and I were walking into the room.

"Oh, apparently, yes." Sherlock said causing him and John to go into a fit of laughter.

"Just once, could you two behave like grown-ups?" Mycroft snapped.

Sherlock was sitting, his clothes and shoes folded neatly on the table in front of him, but he was wrapped in a bed sheet.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. So I wouldn't hold out too much hope." John joked.

I stood behind the sofa staring, rather disappointedly, at the two men before me.

"I was working on a case, Mycroft." Sherlock had lost his humor.

"What? The hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?" Mycroft was trying to tease him.

"Transparent." Sherlock bit back. John looked between the two confused before his gaze settled back to me.

"Time to move on then." Mycroft attempted to hand Sherlock his clothing, unsuccessfully.

"We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on." I said sternly.

Sherlock looked at me and mocked my tone, "What for?"

"Your client."

Sherlock stood, he was trying to intimidate me, as he so often did when we were children, "And my client is?"

"Illustrious," another man's voice said as he entered the room. "In the extreme. And remaining – I have to inform you – entirely anonymous." I moved closer to the man as did Mycroft. "Mycroft!" He said, extending his hand. After they shook, he turned to me also shaking my hand.

"Harry." Mycroft said.

I was standing next to Mycroft now, closer to the door. "May we apologize for the state of our brother?"

Harry looked to me, "Full time occupation, I imagine, Ms. Holmes." He continued to introduce himself to John and told him of his employer's enjoyment of his blog. "And Mr. Holmes, the younger. You look taller in your photographs."

"I take the precaution of a good coat, and a short friend." He stormed past John and Mycroft. "Mycroft I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases, not both. Too much work." He looked back to Harry, "Good Morning."

As he was walking away I stepped on the tail of his sheet, which he caught in time for it not to be a completely embarrassing event. He looked at me furiously.

"This is a matter of national importance, now grow up!" I snapped at him.

"Get off my sheet." He gritted his teeth.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll walk away." He threatened.

"I'll let you." I dared.

"No. No, not here." John stepped in, breaking our bout of sibling rivalry.

"Who. Is. My. Client?"

Mycroft took over, "Take a look at where you are standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake…" He paused for a moment collecting himself. "Put your clothes on!"

Sherlock finally agreed, and took his clothes to the nearest bathroom. While he was away, Mycroft and Harry left to fetch someone to make tea for us. John and I were left alone for the first time since the pool.

"How are you?" He asked.

"I'm well. Working again, as you can obviously see." We had gone into not so great detail about my leave from the service. I had told him that Mycroft had sent me into a rather sticky situation where I was captured and tortured for almost a month. "How are you? Sarah?"

He looked to the floor, "Yeah, I'm good. Sarah and I decided to end things. Danger wasn't really for her."

I smiled apologetically at him. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"We miss you, coming 'round the flat."

"We?"

"Okay, well. Maybe just me, then."

Sherlock cleared his throat to announce his return, and shortly after Mycroft and Harry returned with a houseboy and a tray of tea and tea cups in tow. John pulled a chair up for me, noting that there would not be enough room on the two sofa's for three people.

"I'll be mother" Mycroft said after we were all seated as he poured the tea.

"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell." Sherlock mumbled.

Mycroft glared at him.

"My employer has a problem," Harry chimed in.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft continued.

"Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally secret service. Why come to me?" Sherlock asked,

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked him.

"Not, to date, anyone with a Navy."

"This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore trust." Mycroft added.

"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" John asked.

"Naturally not." I said, John looking to me. "They all spy on people for money. Isn't that right brother?"

Mycroft took the conversation over again, John sent me a questioning look before paying attention. Mycroft opened a briefcase that held a picture of Irene Adler. He handed the photo to Sherlock going into her long history of affairs and political scandals before handing the floor over to me. I had been studying Adler for some time now.

"Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman." I began.

"Professionally?" John asked.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix'"

"Dominatrix." Sherlock tongued the word.

"Don't be alarmed. It has to do with sex." I teased.

"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock bit back.

"How would you know?" The whole room looked at me, Sherlock seeming particularly shocked. "She provides – shall we say – recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing. And are willing to pay for it." Mycroft handed Sherlock more photos from the briefcase. I continued on, "Those are all from her website."

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs." Sherlock said putting the photos down.

"You're very quick, Mr. Holmes." Harry said excitedly.

"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?"

"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say more at this time." Harry stated.

"You can't tell us anything?" John said, setting down his tea.

We all paused for a moment. "I can tell you it is a young person," Mycroft broke the silence. "A young female person."

Sherlock asked about the photos, how many there were and if Adler and the young female person could be seen together in compromising scenarios. Mycroft assured him of everything we had been told as far as this was concerned.

"Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked.

"How?" Sherlock returned.

"Will you take the case?"

"What case? Pay her. Now and in full. As Ms. Adler remarks in her masthead 'Know when you are beaten.'" Sherlock Stood reaching for his overcoat.

"She doesn't want anything." I said plainly. "She got in touch. She informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor."

Sherlock's face lit up. He was interested, "Oh a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Oh this is getting fun, isn't it? Where is she?"

"London, currently. I'll text you the details." I said, standing with the others.

"I'll be in touch by the end of the day." Sherlock begins to walk away.

Harry calls after him, "Do you really think you'll have news by then?"

Sherlock turned back to him smiling, "No. I think I'll have the photographs."

Harry doubted Sherlock. This outwardly displeased Sherlock and the way he looked at him could only mean that he was making a list of deductions about him. After a moment of silence Sherlock informed us that he would need some equipment, then only asking for a box of matches or a lighter. His gaze stopped on Harry, knowing that John, Mycroft, and I were not avid smokers. Harry then insisted that he did not smoke either, leading Sherlock to inform him that his employer did.

Harry handed Sherlock a lighter, "We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about that little fact, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock pocketed the lighter, "I'm not the commonwealth." He left the room then.

John was slightly embarrassed, "And that's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you." Then the both of them were off, leaving Mycroft and I to apologize for our brother, once again.


	10. Chapter 10

**A bit of an author's note before this chapter begins. I would like to thank everyone who takes the time to read my story. It means a lot to me. Second I would like to apologize for the length of time it has taken for this chapter to come out. I am working diligently on the next chapters and will hopefully have them out in a timely manner. Much love to you guys and I hope you enjoy.**

After returning to the office with Mycroft, I went back to business as usual. I had texted Sherlock the address in which he could find Adler. I was hoping he would be successful by the end of the day.

I was on my way home when I received a call from Greg. I ignored it, but he continued to call until I answered.

"What?" I answered.

"It's Sherlock." That was all he said before ending the call, knowing that I would be on my way to the flat.

When I arrived at 221B Baker Street, John was sitting in his chair working on his blog.

"Hello, John." I greeted him as I removed my coat.

Startled, he closed his computer and turned all his attention to me. "Ansley, I didn't know you were coming."

"Greg called. What happened?" I took a seat in Sherlock's chair.

John filled me in on how they went to Adler's and just as Sherlock was about to get the photographs, American agents busted in threatening all of their lives. One had died when Sherlock entered the code to the booby-trapped safe. He explained that while he was checking the back door, Adler had drugged Sherlock and made off with the photographs again.

"How is he?" I asked. I was upset, but not about the photographs. I knew the Americans were on Irene's trail, I just hadn't realized how close they were to her. I had put my brother and John in serious danger.

"He woke up not long before you got here. I put him back to bed. He'll be fine in the morning."

"That good. I suppose it could have been worse." John noticed the tension in my voice.

"I'll order some take away, get you some clothes and we will watch a movie or something." He got up and headed toward the stairs, "He will get you those photographs." He disappeared up the stairs.

The next morning Mycroft and I took a ride out to Sherlock's. I knew what John said had happened, but there were still questions unanswered. Questions only Sherlock had the answers to.

"The photographs are perfectly safe." Sherlock informed us. He and John were having breakfast when we arrived.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker," Mycroft barked.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants … protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house."

"We have it taken care of, for now." I assured him.

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied." Mycroft was always rather over dramatic.

"Shed applaud your choice in words. You see how this works: that camera phone is her "Get out of jail" free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

"Though not the way she treats royalty," John added with a smile.

A sounds, as if a woman were climaxing rang through the room. "What was that?" John asked.

"Text." Sherlock said standing.

"Yeah, but what was that noise?" John asked.

Sherlock read the message before turning to us again, "Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess." Sherlock asked as he found his way back to his seat.

"Oh yeah, thanks for that Mycroft." John added.

"That was my mistake. I didn't think they had gotten around to finding her yet." I apologized. They both stared at me.

Mrs. Hudson entered with a tray of tea and cups. She briefly interacted with us before Mycroft received a phone call. While we were waiting for him to return, John questioned Sherlock on the noise that his phone made. Sherlock was reluctant to talk about it, saying only that he would leave John to make his own deductions.

"Bonds Air is go, that is decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." Mycroft ended his phone call, nodding to me to get ready to depart.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft looked at him questioningly. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." He stood, facing Mycroft, searching. "Much more," Sherlock closed the gap between them, "Something big's coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on, you will stay out of this." Mycroft instructed. I was a bit shocked.

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock pushed him.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will." Sherlock shrugged and went for his violin. Mycroft motioned for me to come along, "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

"Do give her my love." Sherlock mused as he began to play "God Save the Queen". Mycroft hurried away so quickly making me sprint after him.

Once we were in the car he would say nothing to me except that I would be going back to the office without him. When I asked who was on the phone, he would repeatedly pretend as if he hadn't heard me. This continued on for several weeks. My files were all confiscated, my knowledge to any whereabouts of Irene had stopped coming, and her name was hardly ever mentioned.

I had been spending more time at Sherlock's, with John really, but he was still seeing Jeanette. Sherlock was still receiving those text messages. He was always secretive about them. My money was on Irene, but I knew he would never tell.


	11. Chapter 11

Mrs. Hudson had insisted that we throw a Christmas party. When the night finally came the flat looked better than it had in ages. John and Jeanette had spent a majority of their time hanging fairy lights around the mantelpiece and the windows. We had invited all of our friends, what few friends we had. Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, John, and Jeanette, and of course Sherlock and I.

Sherlock was playing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on the violin. Mrs. Hudson had been drinking since that morning. She was so giddy, smiling at Sherlock. John and Jeanette were in the kitchen getting drinks, arranging snacks, and getting Mrs. Hudson a much needed cup of tea.

Greg and I were friendly again. After all, it was Christmas. Of course Christmas isn't anything if Sherlock doesn't ruin it for someone else. I saw Jeanette offer a mince pie to Sherlock, "No thank you, Sarah." He said to her.

John rushed over pulling her away, telling her he was bad with names. Sherlock wouldn't let that go, "No-no-no I can get this." Everyone in the room sighed. Jeanette put her tray down and straightened herself in front of Sherlock. "No Sarah was the doctor; and then there was the one with the spots; and then the one with the nose; and then…" He paused searching, "Who was after the boring teacher?"

Jeanette looked to the floor, "Nobody."

"Jeanette!" Sherlock exclaimed joyously. "Ah, process of elimination." John was ushering Jeanette to the couch when Sherlock looked to the door, "Oh, dear Lord." He muttered.

Molly walked into the flat carrying a couple bags with gifts in them. Her hair was done up lovely. "Hello everyone. Sorry, hello." She was apologizing for being late. "Er, it said on the door just to come up." We all begin greeting her. Smiles and nods all around. Except from Sherlock. He was rather irritated. Molly looked to him before shuttering out of her coat and scarf.

John had come to take her coat and was caught off guard by what had been hiding underneath, "Let me," he paused quickly, "Holy Mary!"

Molly was wearing a revealing and snug black dress. None of us had ever seen her in this fashion before. Even Greg was floored and could only manage to whisper "Wow" in approval. Molly was slightly embarrassed by everyone being so surprised by her appearance. "Having a Christmas drinkies, then?" She asked, hoping to change the subject.

Sherlock sat in front of John's laptop and kept up his Scrooge like attitude.

"It's the one day of the year the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it!" Mrs. Hudson piped up. John brought Molly over a chair before going to see what Sherlock was up to. Greg offered Molly and drink and she struck up a conversation with Mrs. Hudson that led to a horrid post-mortem joke. What more could be expected though?

Greg came back with a glass of red wine for Molly. "Thank you." She smiled at him, "I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."

"That's first thing in the morning. Me and the wife – we're back together. It's all sorted." Greg explained. Although it wasn't all sorted. She was cheating on him again.

As if he had read my mind, as it always was, Sherlock piped up without taking his eyes off the laptop, "No, she's sleeping with the P.E. teacher."

I looked to Greg, he was hurt, but I knew he wouldn't say anything about it here. He just kept smiling. That was so often his tactic. I grabbed his hand, motioning to the kitchen. I was aiming for him to talk to me, but he just fiddled around that kitchen table, making a drink.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him." Sherlock continued on his rampage to ruin everyone's night.

"Sorry, what?" She was taken aback.

"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

Greg stormed out of the kitchen, glass in hand, and slammed it down on the table in front of Sherlock, "Shut up and have a drink."

Greg didn't go back to the kitchen and I had already returned to my original spot near the book shelf. Sherlock wasn't going to stop. He was having a shit time, so everyone else was going to have to as well. He went on and on about how well wrapped that present on top was and how the paper matched the shade of lipstick Molly was wearing. "Either way, Ms. Hooper have lurve on her mind." He mocked the word love. "The fact that she is serious about him is clear from that fact that she is giving him a gift at all."

Molly looked awfully uncomfortable, yet he continued on "That would suggest long term hopes, however forlorn; and that she is seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she is wearing." He looked smug, picked up the gift and continued his deductions, "Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts…" He trailed off. He had opened the tag to the gift. We all knew the way she felt about Sherlock, and the gift, her appearance, had all been for him. Sometimes my genius brother could be a real moron.

Molly finally fund her voice, "You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always." She almost whispered the last bit as she was trying to hold back tears.

Sherlock turned to walk away, but then he faced her again, "I am sorry. Forgive me." He stepped closer to her and kissed her cheek lightly, "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."

As Sherlock was stepping away from her, his mobile went off making the orgasmic sound. Molly was flushed and insisted that it wasn't her. Most of us knew it wasn't. I couldn't help but feel that was what he had been waiting on.

"Fifty seven of those texts – the ones that I've heard." John said.

Sherlock moved to the mantelpiece. "Thrilling you've been counting." He picked up a package and immediately excused himself from the rest of us. He didn't even want John. Though that didn't stop him. When Sherlock got into his room, he didn't close the door all the way. John headed that way, motioning for me to follow.

He was talking to someone. I assumed it was Mycroft. He told him that he was going to find Irene Adler tonight. "No, I mean you're going to find her dead." Sherlock said before hanging up the phone.

He noticed that we were at the door and came to close it, "Sherlock." I said and John asked if he was okay. We were met by a simple "Yes" and the door shut in our faces.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock left in a hurry when he finally came out of his room. Molly got a call right before that about a body being brought to the morgue. John and I looked at each other, knowing exactly who it was. I called Mycroft but I was told none of this concerned me and that I should stay behind. He then called John and told him to search the flat for any drugs Sherlock may have hidden around.

John, Jeanette, and Mrs. Hudson searched the flat high and low while I watched them.

"You could help you know." John threw a cold look over his shoulder at me.

"Why? You aren't going to find anything. You could have days to look. We are better than most at some things, John. The only way you find anything Sherlock has, is if he wanted you to."

John's mobile rang. Mycroft no doubt. "No." John answered. "Did he take the cigarette?" He waited for an answer. "Shit." He turned to us, "He's coming. Ten minutes."

Mrs. Hudson came around the corner, John gave her a questioning look, "There's nothing in the bedroom." She gave him and apologetic smile.

"Looks like he is clean. We've tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonight is a danger night?" John continued to Mycroft. "I've got plans… Mycroft. My…" He looked at the phone, disappointed before looking to Jeanette on the couch. "I am really sorry." He started.

Mrs. Hudson disappeared back into the kitchen to listen in and motioned for me to do the same. Jeanette was upset, understandably so. She told him that he was a great boyfriend and that Sherlock was a lucky man. When it looked like a break up was imminent, John began asking what he could do, that he would do anything for her. She asked him not to make her compete with Sherlock Holmes. He said he would walk her dog. That's when she stormed down the stairs. She wasn't the girlfriend that had a dog. The truth was, any regular, boring woman would always compete with Sherlock. John likes danger.

Mrs. Hudson was the first to leave the kitchen, "That wasn't very good, was it?"

John rolled his eyes and Mrs. Hudson took her que to leave. Mycroft sent me a text, instructing me not to leave the flat. Of course I knew that was coming when he told John to stay. It wouldn't be much longer until Sherlock returned. John opted to read a book and I made myself comfortable on the couch.

Footsteps came up the stairs. Sherlock stood in the doorway for a moment and looked around. John closed his book and turned around to look at him, "Oh hi." When Sherlock didn't answer John asked if he were okay.

Sherlock turned around and went in through the kitchen door headed for his bedroom, "I hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time." Then he slammed his door.

John sighed and looked to me. I only shrugged. When John went back to his reading, I went around to the side of the couch and slid a gift from behind it. I startled John when I reached the side of his chair. He looked up at me questioningly, I held the gift out to him.

"I'm rubbish at this sort of thing, and I didn't want Jeanette to get the wrong idea. I know how women are." I was at a loss for words. Something about John was different for me.

He put his book down and stood placing his hands on the gift, "You didn't have to get me anything," He smiled at me as I pushed the box into his hands more.

"I saw them and they made me think of you." I was flushed. This was worse than Sherlock's scene with Molly.

He opened it and smiled. Inside was a burgundy cardigan and another Christmas jumper. "For next year, maybe." I was ringing my hands without realizing it.

"They're lovely. Thank you Ansley." I looked up at him and he was looking at both articles of clothing.

"Glad you like them." I said about to retreat to my spot on the couch. He grabbed my arm and I stood, waiting for him to speak, but he just looked at me. He leaned in closer to me and kissed my cheek. I felt a bit of relief, but his face lingered so close to mine. Before I realized what was happening, John had moved his mouth onto mine and I was kissing him back.

The next morning I woke to Sherlock looking out the window and playing his violin. There was breakfast on the table that had been untouched. Sherlock's, I assumed. John and Mrs. Hudson came into the sitting room at the same time. John was wearing the cardigan I had given him. Mrs. Hudson took the plates into the kitchen and John slid on his coat.

"You composing?" He asked when Sherlock.

"It helps me to think." Sherlock picked his violin up again.

"What are you thinking about?" John asked.

I decided it was time for me to go home. I stretched for a moment before heading to the bathroom to change. When I came out John was coming into the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson. He looked to me and motioned me over to them "Listen:" his voice was hushed, "has he ever had any kind of," he sighed, "girlfriend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?" When Mrs. Hudson shrugged, he looked to me.

"I don't know. There weren't any when we were children. And his love life wasn't exactly mine to keep up with."

"How can we not know?" He was frustrated.

"He's Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said, "How will we ever know what goes on in the funny old head?"

John smiled sadly. He wanted so badly to help him. "Right." He headed for the door, placing his hand on my shoulder before leaving, "See ya."

Mrs. Hudson left shortly after. Sisterly moments were never something I was good at but someone had to try. Mycroft had already texted me asking how he was doing. I went to sit down and he flew past me.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." He slammed the door to his bed room.

I sat on the couch, flabbergasted by his change in mood. When he came back he went out through the kitchen door. I chased after him. "Can I go?"

"No. Go home." He ran outside and left me standing in the stair well. I decided to talk to Mrs. Hudson a bit before I went home, but someone had other plans for us.


	13. Chapter 13

While Mrs. Hudson was making me a plate of the leftover breakfast, we heard pounding noises come from the front door. Before she was able to answer them, the door had been broken in and footsteps were rushing towards me.

Two of three men all dressed in black came rushing at me from the hallway. I could hear Mrs. Hudson's screams from the stairwell. When I didn't cooperate with being grabbed the first time, one of the men hit me in the jaw, causing enough pain for me to go limp for a moment and for them to force me out of the flat. I could see Mrs. Hudson ahead, struggling as the extra man helped heave her up the stairs.

They pulled us into Sherlock's flat and began questioning Mrs. Hudson. They were American. The CIA. When Mrs. Hudson didn't have the answers the boss, Neilson, hit her across the face.

"You bastard. You don't hit an elderly woman!" I struggled against the men.

He moved to in front of me and grabbed my face, "You'd do well to shut the pretty little mouth of yours." He pushed my head away and paced in front of us. "If you don't start talking someone is going to get hurt."

"We've no idea who you are or why you're here. Maybe it's you that needs to do the talking." In that moment his fist collided with the side of my face causing and excruciating amount of pain. I took a moment to collect myself, the grip of the agent holding me got tighter.

"I told you once, don't make me tell you again." He turned when he heard the door open downstairs. His threats hadn't worked on us, so instead he had the man holding me hold a gun to my head as he did the same to Mrs. Hudson.

The door opened slowly, and Sherlock walked in just as slow.

"Oh. Sherlock, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson whimpered.

"Don't snivel, Mrs. Hudson. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." He looked over at me. Now was not the time, but he wasn't exactly wrong.

"I believe you have something we want, Mr. Holmes." Neilson said.

Sherlock began moving closer to Mrs. Hudson, "Then why don't you ask for it?" He held out his hand to her, looking over her injuries.

"I've been asking these two. They don't seem to know anything." He smiled, "But you know what I'm asking for, don't you Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock left Mrs. Hudson and walked over to me. He turned my head to the side causing me to wince in pain. Sherlock looked at me apologetically, but he knew I was tougher than this. There had been no point in fighting. They had guns and Mrs. Hudson would have been my only back-up.

Sherlock looked over to Neilson, looking at him for a moment. He moved away from me, "I believe I do." He straightened himself up and put his hands behind his back, "First, get rid of your boys."

"Why?" Neilson asked.

"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room."

Neilson took a moment, "You two, go to the car." The man holding me finally let go. I could feel the blood circulating into my arm. My head was pounding.

"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me. You know who I am, you know it won't work." Sherlock said. When the men were gone he continued on, "Next you can stop pointing that gun at me."

Nielson smiled, "So you can point a gun at me?"

Sherlock stepped backward and put his arms up, "I'm unarmed."

"Mind if I check?" Neilson asked, coming around Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, I insist." Sherlock smiled.

Neilson positioned himself behind Sherlock and began patting him down. Sherlock took a moment before grabbing the can of sanitary spray that was on the table and sprayed it in Neilson's eyes. He head butted him causing his to fall onto the table behind them. Sherlock rushed over to Mrs. Hudson and was calming her. He looked over to me.

"Are you all right?" He asked. I nodded and made my way to his chair.

Sherlock tied up and taped Neilson to the same chair he had confined Mrs. Hudson to. Mrs. Hudson and I were both sitting on the sofa. I had ice for the left side of my face.

We heard footsteps making their way up to the flat. John appeared in the door way and looked around, "What's going on." He got a look at a bloodied Neilson, "Jeez. What the hell is happening?"

"Mrs. Hudson and Ansley have been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe." Sherlock was making a call and had Nielson's gun pointed at a now awake Neilson.

John rushed over to the sofa and sat between us. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson, my God. Are you all right?" Mrs. Hudson started crying again and John pulled her closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on my leg.

Sherlock stood, moving closer to Neilson. "Downstairs. Take them downstairs and look after them."

John stood up and helped Mrs. Hudson up, he went to help me, but I was already standing when he turned around. He motioned for me to go in front of him, "All right, I'm going to have a look at those." I helped Mrs. Hudson downstairs, noticing that John had stayed behind.

He joined us a little later. I had already taken care of Mrs. Hudson's face. She insisted that I was fussing over her too much. He looked at me and motioned for me to join him at the sink, "This," he moved my hair away from my eye, "doesn't look good." He took the antiseptic and started working on my face.

We heard something hit the bins outside. When we looked, Nielson was splayed out. John and I looked at each other. He shrugged and went back to messing about with my wounds. "Is that the CIA?"

I nodded. "They knew Sherlock had the phone."

"She's alive." John turned my face, "Anyone who would do this to you and poor Mrs. Hudson deserves anything he gets."

"Adler is alive?" I jerked my head back to look at him.

"Yeah. Sherlock knows."

"That's where he went.."

Time passed with Mrs. Hudson fussing over making dinner, though I don't think any of us were really hungry. John made me lay down on Mrs. Hudson's sofa and we waited for Sherlock. We could see the lights from the police cars arriving. Greg texted me that he would like to see me. Tonight, however, was not the night.

John and Mrs. Hudson were sitting at the table having some tea when Sherlock rejoined us.

"They'll have to stay with us tonight, so we can look after them." John told him.

"Of course, but they're fine." Sherlock said.

"No they aren't. Look at them." John argued. Sherlock peered around to both of us before he looked into the fridge, finding what was left of dinner.

"Mrs. Hudson has to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go stay with her sister. Doctor's orders." John told him. I joined them in the kitchen.

"Don't be absurd." Sherlock argued.

"She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody camera phone. Where is it anyway?"

"Safest place I know." Sherlock and I both smiled at Mrs. Hudson.

She dug into her bra pulling out the phone, "You left it in the pocket of your second best dressing gown, you clot." She laughed, "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was have a cry."

Sherlock smiled at John and put the phone in his pocket, "Thank you. Shame on you John Watson." He teased.

"Shame on me?!" He was appalled.

"Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock placed a tender arm around Mrs. Hudson.

"England would fall." I smiled at her.

Mrs. Hudson insisted on staying downstairs. We left her to go to bed, and Sherlock went up ahead of John and I.

"Will you stay, then?" He asked.

"No, John. It's time for me to go home." I smiled at him, he looked at the floor.

"I really don't think…"

"I've had much worse. I am fine. Go. Rest. I'll let you know I've made it home." I cut him off. He nodded to me and I kissed his cheek, "Happy New Year, John Watson."


	14. Chapter 14

Months were passing like minutes, and even though I was meant to be his right hand, Mycroft still wouldn't let me in on the secrets he had been holding. Following suit, I hadn't told him that Irene Adler was still alive or that Sherlock was in possession of her camera phone.

Finally something changed. John had texted me about Irene showing up at their flat, going on about an email that one of her clients had said was going to save the world. The same day Mycroft decided to let me in.

"I've received a rather disturbing text message," he began. "When I informed Sherlock to leave Irene Adler alone, I had received a phone call about Bond air. I suspect you don't know what this is." He left me no time to speak, "Irene Adler is alive, I had preferred you told me, but you've always had a soft spot for Sherlock." He looked at me, giving permission for me to speak.

"There are many things you should have told me, Mycroft. What's happened?"

"We were informed of a terrorist group placing a bomb on a plan. Naturally, I devised a solution." He began laying photographs of a 747 Jet in front of me, along with photographs of several deceased men and women. "The plane would fly, the bomb would detonate. The terrorists would have gotten their way and there would have been hundreds of casualties without an actual casualty."

"Would?" I met his cold stare.

"Yes, would. Our MOD enjoyed the company of Ms. Adler, but you should have known that. He showed her the email, she got a picture. The reason both the British and American Governments were after her. The plan is off. The terrorists know that we know. Now, take this ticket and send for your beloved brother. We will meet him at Heathrow."

"Mycroft…" I was defeated.

"Go." He placed an envelope in front of me and turned his back.

Once I was back in my office, I arranged for Plummer to pick him up again, as I had to collect him for the palace. I then joined Mycroft for a silent car ride.

When we arrived, Nielson was present. He greeted Mycroft and apologized to me for the confusion, stating that if he had known I was the sister, he wouldn't have touched me.

"You stay." Mycroft instructed, "Make sure to send Sherlock up without delay."

A short while later a car pulled up containing Sherlock. He was initially surprised to see Neilson. "Well you're lookin' all better. How ya feelin'?" He asked in his incredibly fake American accent.

Neilson was less than impressed, "Like putting a bullet in your brain," He paused for a moment, "Sir." Sherlock gave an amused smile and continued up the stairs. "They'd pin a metal on me if I did." Neilson continued, "Sir.."

Once Sherlock disappeared into the plane I turned to Neilson, "I don't think they would, sir. I know someone who would personally put a bullet in yours for even threatening that man." I remained silent.

Another car pulled up, one I hadn't been expecting. Nielson looked over to me, "We are to escort her inside."

From the car stepped the one and only Irene Adler. She sauntered over to us, a full smile on her face. "Ms. Holmes, I had often wondered if I'd ever meet the woman that has so much research on me."

Neilson directed her up the stairs, following behind her, leaving me to bring up the rear.

"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?" Mycroft was asking Sherlock as we entered the cabin.

"I think it was less than five seconds." The sound of Irene's voice made Sherlock's head turn in our direction.

Mycroft began to apologize, "I drove you onto her path. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Irene moved closer to Sherlock, "Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk."

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on." Sherlock answered.

She moved past him, "Not you, Junior. You're done now." She moved closer to Mycroft, holding up her mobile, "There's more… Loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures, and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably before instructing everyone to exit the jet. Mycroft had a car waiting outside for us. Neilson was shooed away and the rest of us were taken back to the office. No one spoke. I sat between Adler and Sherlock, feeling every inch of tension that was being let off.

We were all seated in the sitting area of Mycroft's far too large office. The silence was uncomfortable. Mycroft and Adler sat at a table with the mobile sitting directly in front of him, Sherlock was watching the fire and I was in the corner, behaving as a scolded child.

"We have people who can get into this." Mycroft touched the phone.

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try for six months." She smiled, Sherlock looked betrayed. "Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone."

"There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive." He refused to look at anyone.

"Explosive. It's more me." She smiled at Mycroft again.

The conversation drifted on and on. Mycroft threatened torture, she had an out. He suggested riding the files, she insists that lives were at stake for her information. She gave a list of demands and ideas for protection. "You've been very," Mycroft paused. "Thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you." He threw a cold look my way.

"I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help." She looked over to Sherlock, "Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love."

"Yes, he's been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention. Which I'm sure can be arranged." Mycroft stated nonchalantly.

Irene raised from her seat and walked around to sit on the edge of the table in front of Mycroft. "I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice on how to play the Holmes siblings. D'you know what he calls you? The Ice Man," She said to Mycroft before looking to Sherlock, "The Virgin," finally her gaze fixed on me, "And the Whore."

Her words were meant to hurt us, but if there was one thing we Holmes children were good at, it was being able to cut off our emotions.

Mycroft was about to give in, letting her win this very elaborate game when Sherlock stopped them. He went onto an explanation about how she had played the game, but she was having too much fun. Sentiment would be her downfall. She did love Sherlock no matter how hard she tried to hide it. In the end, she let her heart rule her head.

The password had been discovered. "S.H.E.R." Every secret, and all her protection were now gone. She had nothing, and she knew she wouldn't survive much longer. Sherlock turned the phone over to Mycroft apologizing for any inconvenience. After his departure, we opted to let Ms. Adler go make her way through the world again.

Mycroft called me into his office some months later, "You are to meet John Watson at Speedy's Café and inform him of Ms. Adler's current situation. Then you can decide whether you will tell Sherlock or whether you would like for John to tell him. Either way, get it done." He was still refusing to look at me directly. A small part of me felt that he was regretting his decision to not terminate my employment when he found out that I knew Adler was still alive.

It was raining when I arrived at Speedy's. I had told John to meet me outside. When he finally showed up, he was soaked.

"Hello." He greeted me, before opening the door for me.

When we were inside, I placed the file I had been holding on the table in front of me.

"The file on Irene Adler?" John guessed.

"Closed forever. I have been instructed to inform my brother that she somehow got herself wrapped up in a witness protection scheme in America. She has a new name, new identity. She will survive, and thrive no doubt. He, however, will never see her again."

John looked at me confused, "Why would he care? He despised her at the end. Wont even mention her by name. Just calls her 'The Woman' which you would know if you ever came 'round anymore." He looked away.

"Is that loathing, or a salute? One of a kind; the one woman who matters." I asked.

He looked back at me with disbelief, "He's not like that. He doesn't feel things that way… I think."

"I've been in love before, John. I know what it looks like. My brother may have the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, but he chose to be a detective. What could be deduced about his heart?" My gaze met John's but only for a moment.

"I don't know." John sighed before looking up again, "He'll be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. He'll be fine."

"I agree. That's why I've decided to tell him that."

"John furrowed his brow, "Instead of what?"

An apologetic smile unwillingly crossed my face, "She's dead. Captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and beheaded."

John looked at me, shocked. He cleared his throat, but I cut him off before he could say anything, "My team was much more thorough this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool us, but sadly, he wasn't on hand."

We both looked at the file, John slid it to himself, "I'll do it. I'll bring the file when it is done." I nodded and smiled at him. He left without a goodbye.


	15. Chapter 15

**A bit of an author's note here. Some of you may have noticed that there had been a chapter 15 published previously. I opted to take it down after a re-read because I felt it had been too rushed and ultimately, a bad chapter over all. Hopefully this new chapter goes over better. Thank you all.**

Delivering the news of Irene Adler's "relocation" had been the last task I was given before being put on a leave. Mycroft had informed me, all to eagerly, that my position was being placed under review and that my stunt with Adler had caused the whole of the Government not to trust me. I would be informed when a decision had been made. He had advised that it would look very well for me to stay away from Sherlock and John, so I had. I was ignoring John's texts and calls, eventually they just stopped coming.

I was spending my days alone, cooped up in my flat. When I finally went out, I ran into Greg. He asked me to lunch and I accepted. He had confronted his wife about her affair after Christmas, and she had admitted to it. He had moved out, again and was on the brink of divorcing her. After lunch he went back to work, but called me that night, one thing led to another and the relationship I thought I had put behind me had started up again.

It had been weeks and I still hadn't heard anything about my employment. Every time I called Mycroft, he reminded me that I threatened National Security so I must be patient. Greg had been hounding me to take a holiday with him. I had finally accepted, wanting more excitement in my dreadfully dull life.

We arrived in Dartmoor on a beautiful Friday afternoon. We only planned to stay for a few days. Greg had asked me to go check us in at the inn and he would grab the bags and meet me there. Once we were settled he suggested we head down to the pub for a drink and some lunch before we headed out sightseeing.

The pub was a small building with a bar in the front for ordering. Greg and I were waiting for our order when a familiar voice caught our attention.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock stormed into the pub with John in tow.

"Nice to see you too." Greg said sarcastically. "We're on holiday, would you believe."

"No, I wouldn't." Sherlock snapped back. He looked over both of us.

"Hello John." Greg greeted.

"Greg!" John exclaimed. He refused to look at me.

"I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after that Hound of Hell like on the telly?" Greg asked. I looked at him confused. He hadn't mentioned knowing that Sherlock was in the area. It made me begin to question why we were really here.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?"

"He told you, Sherlock. We're on holiday."

"He is as brown as a nut. He is obviously just back from holiday." Sherlock glared at me. He hadn't been wrong.

"Yeah, well I fancied another one." Greg shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?" Sherlock paused for a moment before continuing on. "Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends my handlers down to spy on me incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

"That's his name." John and I said in unison.

"Is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes – if you'd ever bothered to find out." Greg cut in, hurt was in his voice. "Look, I'm not your handler. I don't just do what your brother tells me."

"Actually," John chimed in, "They could be just the people we want."

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I haven't been idle, Sherlock. I think I might have found something." John began digging in his pockets, pulling out a receipt showing it to Sherlock and then to Greg. "Here. Didn't know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

I smiled, "Excellent" I said before I realized what I was saying.

John smiled slightly, "Nice, scary Inspector from Scottland Yard who can make a few calls might come in very handy. With an equally scary Government Official to back him up."

Greg and I looked at each other. I was still smiling. This was what I had been missing. I still wasn't sure why we were here and why Greg hadn't mentioned that he knew my brother was here, but to be honest I didn't care anymore. John and Sherlock ordered drinks, once we were all finished we headed out to the inn that we were all staying at.

John hung back with me, obviously looking for something to say, "So, you and Greg then?"

"For the time." I answered.

"You stopped answering my calls." He sounded hurt.

"I'm sorry. You deserve the explanation for that." We made it to the inn, "Talk to me later?"

"Yeah, all right." John pushed past me and disappeared into the inn.

Greg had noticed and gave me a questioning look. I brushed it off and went inside.


	16. Chapter 16

We were in a small room off the bar area of the inn. Two men were sitting at a table with Greg and he was looking through all of their invoices. Sherlock had informed them who we were and they were incredibly nervous. Sherlock had left to make coffee, leaving John and I standing awkwardly together.

Sherlock came back into the room with two cups of coffee, "What's this?" John asked when he was handed a cup. Sherlock handed me the other.

"Coffee. I made coffee." Sherlock said.

"You never make coffee." John argued.

"I just did. Don't you want it?" Sherlock asked.

"You don't have to keep apologizing." John said taking the cup. What would Sherlock be apologizing for I wondered. "Thank you," John said taking a sip before grimacing and puling the cup away from his mouth, "I don't take sugar."

Greg had finished looking through the invoices and he slid them over to me. "These records go back nearly two months."

"That was after the show went out. Must've been when you had your silly idea." I added.

The younger looking man, Billy, spoke first, "It's me. It was me." He looked to his partner, "I'm sorry Gary – I couldn't help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Carol's wedding and one thing led to another.." He was lying. I looked to Sherlock, he was smiling.

Greg cut him off immediately, "Nice try."

The pair looked more nervous than before. Gary finally confessed, "Look, we were just trying to give things a boost, you know? A great big dog run wild up on the moor – it was heaven-sent. It was like having out own Loch Ness Monster."

"All right. Well the game is over now. Where do you keep it?" I asked.

Gary sighed, "There's an old mine shaft. It's not too far. It was alright there."

"Was?" Sherlock asked, picking up on his use of past tense immediately.

"We couldn't control the bloody thing. It was vicious." Gary paused, "And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er, you know.."

"It's dead, then?" John asked.

"Put down." Gary confirmed.

"Yeah. No choice. So it's over." Billy added.

"It was just a joke, you know?" Gary said.

"Yeah. Hilarious." Greg said sarcastically. "You've nearly driven a man out of his mind." Speaking of Henry, the man that had been all over the documentaries saying that his father had been killed by the hound.

Greg was the first to leave, John followed him out leaving Sherlock and I. Sherlock peered into John's coffee cup and looked over to me. I had drank all of my coffee, and Sherlock's behavior had me convinced I probably shouldn't have. I left the men sitting in their own guilt.

John was talking to Greg as we left the building. We huddled outside of the inn and Greg asked the question that had been on everyone's mind.

"So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?"

"No reason not to." Sherlock answered.

"Well, hopefully there is no harm done. Not quite sure what I'd charge him with anyway. We'll have a word with the local force." Greg grabbed my hand and nodded to the men.

"Right. Well, we'll be off if you don't need us anymore." I said with a smile.

"I'm enjoying this!" Greg exclaimed, "It's nice to get London out of your lungs." We began to walk away. Something was off. Sherlock couldn't believe that story about having the dog put down. But this wasn't my case, and my part was done.

"Oh darling sister!" I heard Sherlock call.

We stopped walking, I couldn't help but be pleased that he still needed my help. Sherlock explained to me that he wanted to get back into Baskerville. He had told me about the ID he had pulled from Mycroft and how it had worked for a little while, but it definitely would not work again. He also told me that he had seen a hound with huge red eyes and that it glowed. The last bit had interested me.

"I can't get you back into Baskerville, Sherlock." I paused for a moment, what I was about to do would ensure that I would lose my job. "Give me a moment." I walked away.

Greg looked at me, concerned when he saw me dial my eldest brother. "I have a proposition for you. One the board will like."

Greg and I were back in our room. John and Sherlock were waiting for me downstairs. "So you've given up your job to get Sherlock twenty-four hours in a military facility that may or may not be hiding a giant hound."

"Yes." I stated plainly whilst I changed into more appropriate, Government-like clothing.

"Why? It doesn't make any sense."

"Because he needed a way in."

"He could have found his own way in."

"I'm interested, Greg. He told me what he saw and I want to know if it's true."

"What if it isn't safe?"

"I've seen worse." I walked over to the bed and kissed him, "I'll be fine, and I'll be back."

I drove to Baskerville knowing the guard would need to see my ID. We were inside in no time and I had tried to send the men off to find the hound while I talked to Major Barrymore, but Sherlock had insisted that we send John alone.

"You're to give us twenty-four hours. It is what has been negotiated." I said sternly.

He looked me up and down, "Not a second more. I may have to comply with this order, but I don't have to like it." He turned his back to us, looking toward his computer. Sherlock began to leave the office when the Major turned back around. "I don't know what you're expecting to find here."

"Perhaps the truth, Major. What are you hiding here?" I asked.

"Oh, I see. The big coat on that one," He nodded to Sherlock, "Should have told me. He's one of the conspiracy lot, isn't he? And you're the Government official sister that can pull all the strings to keep him happy."

"I'd watch the way you talk to some people, Major. If I can pull strings for him, imagine what I can do to your job." I smiled slightly.

"Well, then, go ahead: seek them out. The monsters, the death rays, the aliens." He snapped.

"Have you got any of those?" Sherlock asked nonchalantly. Barrymore rolled his eyes, Sherlock continued, "Oh, just wondering."

"A couple." He leaned forward. "Crash landed here in the sixties. Call 'em Abbot and Costello."

Sherlock left the room and I followed behind, "Good luck, Ms. Holmes." I heard him call and I turned once more to look at him while the door closed.

When I turned around, Sherlock was gone. I sighed in disapproval as I called his mobile, but it sent me straight to voicemail. I found my way to a lift. I wondered around for a bit, until I could hear John yelling from another room. I followed where the screams had come from and made my way into a large lab the had John and Sherlock in the middle.

"Huge; red eyes?" Sherlock asked John.

"Yes." He answered back. He was out of breath and visibly shaken.

"Glowing?" Sherlock asked again.

"Yeah." John answered.

"No." Sherlock said plainly, shaking his head.

"What?" John blurted.

"I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged." Sherlock said, looking around the room.

"Drugged?" I asked joining the men.

"Yes. Can you walk?" He asked John.

"'Course I can walk." He said, trying to hide his fear.

"Come on, then. It's time to lay this ghost." Sherlock turned and walked away.

John stumbled a little when he tried to move. I grabbed his arm to steady him. When he looked at me, his gaze went from scared to cold in the blink of an eye. He looked away from me and around the lab before removing his arm from my hand and following Sherlock.


	17. Chapter 17

We found ourselves bursting into a lab where a woman was examining a white rabbit. She was startled, but had recognized Sherlock and John from their earlier visit I assumed.

"Oh, back again? What's on your mind this time?" She asked.

"Murder, Doctor Stapleton. Refined, cold-blooded murder." Sherlock moved toward the light switch, flipping it off. The rabbit on the table had a green glow to it. "Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell, or shall I?"

I was impossibly lost. Either way, Sherlock had simply wanted to use her microscope. We moved to another portion of the lab. John and Stapleton were talking, when I overheard how Stapleton's daughter had accidentally received one of the modified rabbits, like the ones we saw earlier, and that was why Bluebell had to go.

I was hovering over Sherlock, watching him as he tried to figure out how it was that we were all drugged. He threw several glances in my direction, he hated when I hovered. I wasn't sure exactly what he was looking at, until I began to think back.

Sherlock had given John sugar in his coffee. He knew that John didn't take sugar, and then he had checked to see how much of it John had drank. Why would he care if it weren't important? When we arrived at the facility, he insisted that it be John that go off on his own, when I could have easily handled Barrymore without Sherlock. When I reconnected with the men, John was shaken and had been yelling about something not being okay and then described what Sherlock explained had been what he told him to see. That we had all been drugged.

"You won't find it in the sugar." I whispered to him.

He stopped working momentarily, "You don't know that."

"You're looking for a drug of some kind, preferably a hallucinogenic, something that would alter ones perception. There was sugar in my coffee too, Sherlock, and I haven't seen anything strange. What can you deduce from that?" I walked to the other side of the table while he continued to search.

Suddenly, Sherlock had thrown a slide at the wall, barely missing me, "It's not there!"

John and Stapleton where startled, "What were you expecting to find?" She asked.

"A drug of course!" Sherlock glared at me, "There has to be a drug. A hallucinogenic or a delirient. There is no trace in the sugar."

"Sugar?" John asked.

"The sugar, yes. It's a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound – saw it as my imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn't believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. Henry Knight – he saw it too but you didn't, John. You didn't see it. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing: you don't take sugar in your coffee." Sherlock paced, "I took it from Henry's kitchen – his sugar. It's perfectly all right."

"Maybe it isn't a drug," John added.

Sherlock sat back on his stool, "No there has to be a drug. But how did it get in our systems? How?" He looked at all three of us, "Get out." He commanded.

"What?" Stapleton asked.

"Get out. I need to go to my mind palace."

"Your what?" Stapleton asked again.

John sighed and looked at her, "He's not going to be doing much talking for a while. We should go." John led her out of the room explaining what a mind palace was.

I stopped beside Sherlock, "You're dealing with the military. It will be far less obvious than sugar." He waved me off and I left as well.

While waiting for Sherlock, John still refused to speak to me. He was flirting heavily with Stapleton. It was nauseating. It took less time than I thought it would for Sherlock to find what he needed and soon we were being led back to Barrymore's office. Once inside, Sherlock had John and I watch the door.

Stapleton immediately logged on to a computer, while Sherlock talked about Project H.O.U.N.D in Liberty, Indiana. He told her to search H.O.U.N.D, but it was classified. An authorization code would be needed. "That's as far as my access goes, I'm afraid." Stapleton apologized.

"There must be an override and password." John suggested.

They all turned to me, "I don't have military clearance. The password would be Barrymore's."

Sherlock and Stapleton disappeared into the office, John looked at me, "Why, then?"

He was expecting the explanation I had promised him earlier, "I got into trouble, John. The trouble, however, is over now."

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. I knew that wouldn't be enough, but I didn't have the time to tell him what he wanted to know. He left me with the door and joined Sherlock and Stapleton's conversation.

Sherlock bolted out of Barrymore's office, entering a password and gaining access to the files on Project H.O.U.N.D. The information was horrifying.

Sherlock was quieter now, "Project HOUND: a new delerient drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus; but they shut it down and hid it away in nineteen eighty-six."

"Because of what it did to subjects they tested it on," Stapleton added.

"And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drove them insane – made them almost uncontrollably aggressive." Sherlock continued.

"So someone's been doing it again – carrying on the experiments?" John asked.

"Attempting to refine it, perhaps, for the last twenty years." Sherlock confirmed.

"Who?" Stapleton asked.

"Those names mean anything to you?" John asked her.

"No, not a thing." She answered.

"Five staple scientist, twenty years ago. Obviously how the project got its name." I said.

Sherlock zooms in on the photo that he has pulled up, "Maybe our friend is somewhere in the back of the picture – someone who was old enough to be there at the time of the experiments in nineteen eighty-six." He paused looming over a face, "Maybe someone who says 'cell phone' because of time spent in America. You remember, John?" John mumbled an agreeance. "He gave us his number in case we needed him." Sherlock continued.

Stapleton had been staring at the photo for a minute, "Oh my God. Bob Frankland. But Bob doesn't even work on…" She paused, "I mean, he's a virologist. This is chemical warfare."

"It's where he started though. And he's never lost the certainty, the obsession that the drug really could work. Nice of him to give us his number." Sherlock pulled his mobile out of his pocket, "Let's arrange a little meeting."

John closed in on the computer when Sherlock moved. He was examining the photograph when his mobile began to ring as well. He answered it, but he hadn't recognized who it was. Upon asking, he informed Sherlock it was a woman named Louise Mortimer, and she was begging that they find Henry. John told her to stay put and assured her that we would get someone to check on her.

"Henry?" Sherlock asked when John got off the phone.

"He's attacked her." John said.

"Gone?" Sherlock asked, John nodded. Sherlock dialed a number, "Only one place he'll go to; back to where it all started." He paused for a moment, "Lestrade. Get to the Hollow.. Drewer's Hollow, now. And bring a gun." Sherlock hung up already on his way to the exit. John and I followed.


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock drove like a mad man to the hollow. Once there, he and John took off telling me to stay put and wait for Greg. I could hear yelling echo from all around. Greg pulled up and jumped out of the car quickly. He ran past me and I followed, having to kick off my shoes in the process.

When we reached Sherlock, John, and Henry, John was taking a gun away from him. John placed the gun into his pocket. Henry didn't look well. He tried to reason with Sherlock, "But we saw it: the hound. Last night. We.." He began to stumble over his word, becoming more and more tearful, "We did, we saw it."

Sherlock closed their gap, trying to console him, "Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works." Sherlock stopped talking and Henry only stared, "But there never was any monster." Sherlock finished.

Just as Sherlock had finished assuring Henry, a deep, loud howl rang over us all. John and Greg shone their torches to the top of the ledge ahead of us. We could see a figure, stalking ahead. "Sherlock…" John tried to get his attention.

Sherlock looked up, and Henry began to panic, backing away. "No! No. No."

Sherlock continuously said Henry's name trying to calm him. The hound was moving closer to the bottom of the ledge. Henry kept screaming no, and I was getting more and more frightened.

I heard Greg mutter a quiet, "Shit." John shined his torch on Greg, asking him if he was seeing the hound as well. When it was evident that he was John began talking to Sherlock, "Right: he is not drugged, Sherlock. So what's that? What is it?!" He was panicking.

"All right!" Sherlock yelled, "It's still here…" He paused, trying to bring himself together, "But it's just an ordinary dog. Henry! It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!"

The hound moved a short way down the ledge, coming into clear view for us. Greg stumbled backwards and I found myself grabbing hold of John's arm and pushing my body to his. Sherlock looked behind us and grabbed hold of a man that had emerged from the fog. He was yelling at him, saying things like "No" and "It's not you. You're not here." Sherlock head-butted the man before he swirled him into the center of our group. "The fog!" He yelled at us.

John pulled his arm from my grip and pulled out the gun he had taken from Henry. "What?" He asked Sherlock.

"It's the fog! The drug: It's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that's what it said in those records. Project HOUND – it's the fog! A chemical minefield!"

I saw Greg throw his arm over his face. We had already been drugged. There was no point. The hound was coming closer to us now, looking as if it were getting ready to attack. "For God sake, kill it! Kill it!" The man screamed.

I jumped as Greg fired three shots, all missing the hound. As it went to leap at us, John hit it with two shots. It fell to the ground and we all waited for any more movements. When we were sure it was dead, Sherlock ran over to Henry, forcing him to look at it. He fought Sherlock the whole time, until they were closer to it. Henry looked at it for a moment before turning to the man and screaming at him.

"You bastard!" He ran at the man, Frankland I assumed, tackling to the ground. John and Greg ran over trying to pull Henry off of him. I joined Sherlock as we watched the ordeal. Henry continued screaming at the man, "Why didn't you just kill me," He asked as the men pulled him off.

I looked at him sympathetically, "Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you."

"He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means to do it right at his feet – a chemical minefield, pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time you came back here. Murder weapon and the scene of the crime all at once," Sherlock spun slowly motioning to the hollow. He begins laughing delightfully, "Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you! It's been brilliant."

"Sherlock." John intervened.

"What?"

"Timing." He breathed with his hand still on Henry's shoulder.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked.

Henry was standing without being held back. Greg and I had stepped to the side, watching, hoping that he didn't lunge for Frankland again. "No, no its – its okay. It's fine, because this means," He moved toward Frankland causing John to step with him. "This means my dad was right." He tried moving closer, but Greg stepped in, both men placing a hand on his shoulders. "He found something out didn't he? And that's why you killed him – because he was right and he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment."

I watched as Frankland moved from being on his bum to his knees and slowly started to stand. I heard the growl from the side but I hadn't taken my eyes off of him. John shot at the dog again giving Frankland the out he needed and he began running. I moved past the men quickly running after him.

I heard Sherlock yelling after him and knew they were right behind. He went through a tricky trail, jumping over trees and such. I stopped following when he jumped the barbed wire fence. I watched as he continued running, but then he stopped. I knew I needed to move backwards.

I had gotten a short distance from the fence when I was thrown forward and could feel the heat from the explosion. I heard someone scream my name, but everything went dark.


	19. Chapter 19

I didn't wake again until the next morning. I was incredibly sore. Once my eyes focused, I saw Greg sitting in a chair across the room. He looked upset in more than a "my girlfriend almost got blown up" type way. I surveyed the rest of the room, our bags had been packed though we had only been here for a day. I sat up slowly, but he didn't offer to help. Something was wrong.

My head was pounding and the light from the window didn't help. There were two aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table. I took them and drank the water, still waiting for Greg to speak. The silence became more deafening.

"What's wrong?" I asked, grimacing at the sound of my voice.

He looked at me for the first time, "I was going to wait, but I can't." He ran his hand along his brow, "I see the way you look at him, Ansley. I don't know why you even bothered with me again. I mean, I guess I do. D'you want to know when I figured it out?"

"Figured what out, Greg?" I asked. I was ill, though he hadn't been wrong.

"That you love him."

"Love who?" I asked, knowing perfectly well who.

He raised his voice, "Don't belittle me!" He calmed himself, "John. I knew you were in love with John when you gave up your job just to get them into a facility. I tried to deny it, but I knew you wouldn't have done that just to get Sherlock what he wanted. He could do that himself. You needed to impress. I know, that's what you do." He looked at me for a moment. When I didn't say anything, he continued on. "And if that wasn't enough, you made an obvious choice in the hollow. John and I were both two feet away from you, and when the great, emotionless woman finally got scared, who did she turn to? None other than the fine Doctor Watson himself."

"Greg…" I began to argue with him, but everything I would say would have been a lie. "You're right. This isn't fair to you. I am sorry."

I heard his footsteps come closer to the bed, until he was next to me, "I'm done being a second choice. Sherlock and John are still here. I packed your bags. I'm leaving." He bent down and kissed my head. "It isn't fair, but I'll be all right." I watched as he walked away. I watched as he closed the door, and through it all, I felt nothing.

I heard my mobile begin to ring. Mycroft. I hadn't expected to hear from him, "Brother?"

"You're needed. Immediately. There is a car coming for you." He insisted. "You've twenty minutes before the car arrives. Don't argue." With that he hung up.

My packing was already done, there had only been one matter of business I hadn't handled. John's apology. In the drawer of the bedside table, there was a note pad and a pen. I quickly decided this would be the best way to tell him everything. At first I struggled to find the words I needed, but once I got the first sentence out, the rest came easy.

"John, I know I owe you an apology, and unfortunately this is only going to be an explanation I expect you to accept. I would have told you everything in person, but something has come up. Something will always come up. These are the lives we lead. I have always placed my academic and career advances in front of everything, and everyone. And now I have done it to you, even though, something in me never wanted to. I was faced with losing my job and I panicked. My brothers are both so successful in everything they do, and then there is me. Mycroft practically runs our country single handed. Sherlock has a lucrative career as the world's only consulting detective. I, however, was the Secret Service agent who wasn't even good enough to not get caught. And now the Government worker who threatened the national security because I decided to withhold information. As you can see, I don't take disappointment well. Our parents will love us no matter what, but being the youngest, and being a girl, I will never be on par with my brothers, at least not in my mind. To deal with it, I turned off my emotions, but my need to please them still remains. Mycroft told me to stay away. So I did. I could have told you, but any further contact from the moment he told me to stop would have disappointed him, and I couldn't have that. I'm not as strong as I pretend to be, John. When I couldn't have you, I got scared. I couldn't fill my time with going to work and then hanging around with you and Sherlock, pretending to hate every second, when in fact, the only thing I hated was going home at the end of the day. So I turned back to Greg for the comfort I was so desperate for. Now I've gone and run him off too, hurting him in ways I never intended. I was afraid of getting attached to you, but I've done it anyway. I would and I have given up everything I hold dear to me for you, John Watson. I think that may be because I love you, but I'm not sure I know what love is. This is the best I can give you. I wish it were more, and I wish it were better.

Yours,

Ansley Holmes"

When I had finished the letter, I had five minutes to spare. I folded the piece of paper and shoved it into my suit pocket. Grabbing my phone, I sent a text to John, "I'm sorry. AH"

When I got downstairs, the car was right on time. I saw John's profile as I climbed in and we pulled away. He was looking at his phone.

We went straight to the office and down to the holding cells. Mycroft met us and led me into a room that held the window behind the mirror to an interrogation room. Inside sat none other than Jim Moriarty. A wave of fear washed over me.

"We are letting him go. Your only assignment is to watch over Sherlock." He instructed.

"Why let him go?" I asked.

"There is no reason to keep him."

"He was going to kill us."

"Your word against his."

"My job, then?"

"Re-instated. Though, you'd already figured that out. Do not disappoint this time." He looked at me. "Go release him."

I took a deep breath before leaving the viewing room. When I opened the door, Jim stood and moved toward me, smiling the closer he got. His eyes were piercing and his smile sent shivers down my spine. When he was gone, I looked around the room. He had written Sherlock all over the walls. What was his obsession? I was sure I would find out, and soon.


	20. Author's Note

Hey guys, I wanted to take a moment to apologize for not uploading anything recently. I have really been debating on what I have wanted to do going forward. The direction I have decided to take needs me to fall into a dark place to write. Recently I got too busy to do what was needed. I can say now, with certainty, that a new chapter will be up no later than the end of this week. I do hope it is worth the wait and that I can get back onto a regular posting schedule. Thank you for your continued support.


	21. Chapter 20

It had been all over the news, but I had refused to believe it. For days we had been fed lies of my brother being a fake and everyone was so quick to turn their backs on him. Now I was being told that he was dead, but it couldn't be true.

I heard the front door open, I could tell by the heaviness of the footsteps that it was John and he was bearing the news I didn't want to hear. I stood, waiting for him to reach the top of the stairs. It seemed like ages, but when he finally made it, he stopped at the door. He couldn't look at me, only the ground. He shook his head, in the way that people do when they don't want to directly tell you someone has passed.

I reached my hand out to him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before moving closer, taking my hand and pulling me into him. We could feel each other's silent sobs, but neither of us dared to speak. After countless minutes had gone by, John released me.

"I need a shower." His eyes met mine. Tears were still streaming down his face. I nodded and sat on the sofa.

He didn't take long. I suspected he didn't want to be alone for any length of time that he didn't have to be. I couldn't blame him. Neither did I. Mycroft hadn't said a word, which was unusual, but I could only assume that he was grieving in his own way.

When John returned to the living room, he sat in his chair and stared at Sherlock's. The silence felt like it went on forever. Sitting and staring and still not talking. I couldn't take it anymore. "Let's go out." I blurted.

John looked at me, "You want to go out?"

"We need to eat, and leaving is better than this endless cycle of sitting and crying. If you don't want to go…"

"No, you're right." He sat up putting on his shoes and taking a final look around the ever empty sitting room before motioning me out the door.

The building was quiet. Not even Mrs. Hudson had come out to greet us. We would have to check on her soon, but for now she needed to grieve just as we did. We decided to go far across town to find somewhere to dine. I assumed it was because neither of us were actually hungry.

The cab ride was long and silent. This silence that seemed to be never ending. I texted Mycroft, but had received no response. When my frustrations at my brother's disregard began to show, John placed his hand over mine in an attempt to comfort me. I pulled away, not intentionally, but I felt something in that moment that should have been the farthest from my mind. A strong attraction to John that I could not shake.

Dinner was rounds forced small talk, poking at our food, and comforting touches. Though people gawked at the sight of us, no one mentioned a word. Sherlock and John had become quite famous over the past few months. The very fame that turned everyone against Sherlock when Moriarty pretended to be a hired actor. The fame that made everyone believe that he was less than what he had said. The fame that led him to his death.

When holding back became unbearable, John suggested that we leave.

"I can't go back to your flat, John. I…"

"I know," he said calmly, "I'll have the cabbie take you home."

As we pulled up to my flat, dread filled the pit of my stomach. I looked at John, he was feeling it too. "Stay with me?" I asked.

Almost as if he was hoping I would ask, relief washed over his face.

He took my coat once we were inside. I went to the kitchen, fixing us both a strong and much needed drink. John had been silent since we arrived, though if I had known why, maybe I wouldn't have let him take my coat.

I walked into the sitting room with the drinks, John was standing in the middle of the room, staring at me with a piece of paper in his hand. "John?"

"You wrote this months ago and never gave it to me. Why?" He placed the paper on the table.

My heart stopped when I realized what he had been reading. I carried the letter I had written to him at Dartmoor in my coat with hopes of one day giving it to him. Today had not been the day that I imagined. "John, is this really the best time?"

"Yes." He said bluntly.

"I was afraid." My voice was barely audible. "I liked having you in my life, and I didn't want to run you off like everyone else."

He had moved closer to me, taking the drinks from my hands and setting them down. Our eyes met; I could feel my breathing change, my heart was racing. I'd never felt this way before.

He brushed my hair away before cupping my face and leaning in, placing his lips on mine. In that moment everything changed. Though we were both grief stricken, we were able to find comfort in each other. That night nothing mattered. As we came together as one, it seemed as if the whole world had been washed away. Sadly, the feeling could only last until morning came.

I laid in bed, John's arms wrapped around me when everything hit me all at once.

"What are we going to do, John?" I asked through a veil of tears.

"I don't know, but at least we have each other."


	22. Chapter 22

I hadn't told anyone I had seen Sherlock in his flat one night after his 'death'. John and I had a falling out, and though he may have broken my heart I still cared for him and refused to ask him to leave my flat. I left instead, heading for the one place I swore never to return. 221b.

The building looked gloomy and ominous. I unlocked the front door using the spare. It was late and Mrs. Hudson was going to give me an ear full. I could have asked to crash on her sofa for the night, but if I was to be sad, I'd rather do it alone.

I knocked on her door, which she answered surprisingly fast. "Oh, hello dear." Her eyes sparkled when she looked at me.

I gave her my best smile. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson. I was hoping I could stay upstairs for the night."

She looked at me confused for a moment, then her expression softened. "Of course deary. I haven't dusted since..." Her voice trailed as she turned to hand me the key. "Would you like a cuppa?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'd just like to be alone."

She smiled. Her heart breaking for me though she had no idea why. "Of course. Make yourself at home. I'll be here if you need anything."

I nodded to her, taking the key and trekking up the stairs.

The door was open when I got there. I pulled my gun I kept in a thigh holster and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

The living room was clear. Nothing looked to be disturbed. I moved to the kitchen.

The dust around the lab equipment had been smeared. The intruder had been light footed, and either had a key or was a good lock pick. The keys sitting on the table near the kitchen door confirmed the key theory.

Peaking down the hallway she saw a siloette in Sherlock's room. She removed her shoes quietly, sneaking down the hallway. She made her way into the room, gun still drawn, without any noise. She was behind the man now. One more step and the floor board creaked.

The man spun around grabbing her by the throat and passing her against the wall. He hadn't been trying to hurt her by the lack of force he used.

"Dear sister. You make so much noise." Sherlock's face came into view and I lowered my gun that I had pressed on his abdomen.

"You're supposed to be dead."

He smiled his winning smile. "I am. And you're going to make sure I stay that way."

He spent the night, explaining why he had faked his death and why it was pertinent that no one find out he was alive.

I had fallen asleep late that morning, when I woke he was gone. And there was no telling when I would see him again, if I ever saw him again. My brother was alive. Though I was relieved, I knew Mycroft could never know. He hadn't told me for a reason.

Years passed without word from Sherlock, though I knew he wouldn't reach out to me. It would be too dangerous for him.

One day I walked into Mycrofts office to find him packing. "Where are you going?" I asked.

He didn't flinch. "I'm glad you're finally in. We have a mission. And I need your expertise. How's your Serbian?"

Serbia? What could be in Serbia that would warrant Mycroft going on a... My thoughts vaulted in their tracks. Sherlock. "Its fine." I answered.

"Good. You'll have to kill. Are you prepared for that?" He still hadn't turned to me.

"Of course." Though I hadn't wanted to admit it, I missed field work. Holding someone's life in my hands. It was a rush.

"Pack, only what you need. We leave tonight."

I left the office heading back to my flat.

We left in the dead of night. Very few agents were present and none of them accompanying us. We were going in blind. The whole flight he didn't tell me why we were going. Only instructions. "There is a terrorist cell in Serbia. We are to infiltrate. No hostages. Kill anyone who can ruin us. The Serbian government has given us our way in. Do not mess this up, or it will be your life."

As he said the head of the Serbian government was waiting for us at the decreet landing location. He told us where we needed to report and gave us few words of good luck. The rest was up to us.


	23. Chapter 23

Getting in had been easy. We were welcomed by some. The others ended up dead. I killed anyone who stood in our way. We had been there for week. Finally, they were going to be questioning the prisoner they had. Mycroft had instructed me to ensure we were on duty as guards for the interaction. The prisoner was our target and getting him out was our directive. Though it had taken days, I was able to remove the guards that would have been in the room, giving us the advantage we needed.

Mycroft sat behind a desk. His legs resting on top. Our faces were covered. I stood at the door. On the other side another guard waited. He was wearing earphones to block out the screams. Our boss was speaking only Serbian. I was keeping up as best I could.

"You broke in here for a reason." He picked up a metal pipe. "Just tell us why and you can sleep. You remember sleep?" He was taunting the prisoner.

The captive said something I couldn't hear. It startled our boss. He turned to Mycroft.

"Well. What did he say?" Mycroft asked.

"He said that I used to work in the Navy, where I had an unhappy love affair."

The captive continued on. I began tuning them out. Hearing only what was pertinent. The captive was telling his torturer things about his wife. Mainly that she was sleeping with neighbor. And that if he left he could catch them. Our boss stormed away motioning for me to open the door. This is what we had been waiting for.

I was evaluating the number of guards I had seen between our tiny room and the exit and just how many of them I would have to kill to get my brothers and I out safely.

"Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear." Mycroft said before getting Sherlock out of his shackles.

Sherlock was skin and bones. Mycroft had enough strength to ensure we could get him out. I pulled my gun and placed a silencer on the end. The less noise the better. I opened the door and placed the barrel of my gun on the back of the guard's head. He pulled his earphones out and stiffened. I spoke only in Serbian. "Ensure we get out and you live. Any trouble and I'll pull the trigger."

He nodded his head and began moving. He radioed that we had been instructed to move the prisoner. Leading us through the hall to the exit, we encountered one small issue. He had signaled to a guard that he was being held captive and we were trying to break out. At the sign of trouble I shot the guard in front of me point blank. When he fell I put another bullet through the second guards head.

From there we were alone. I killed everyone who saw us. Finally we had broke free and were headed to the rendezvous point.

In no time we were on our way back to London. Sherlock slept soundly across a couple seats and for the first time and years, so did I knowing all of my family was safe.


	24. Chapter 24

Mycroft instructed Sherlock to rest in his office for a while. Later the barber was coming to shave his god awful beard and cut his overgrown hair. Mycroft pulled me out of the office.

"Go to his flat and get him some clothes."

I nodded and left the office hailing a cab. When we pulled up to the building it didn't seem as gloomy as it had before. Perhaps it was because I knew Sherlock was alive, and safe.

I used my key to enter the front door and stopped by to alert Mrs. Hudson of my presence.

"Hello, deary!" She said cheerfully. "My, my. Today must be my lucky day. Please come in. I've got another visitor as well." She stood back to let me in. From her front door I could see her sitting room. I could see John. He and I hadn't been in the same room with each other for over two years. Of course I knew how he was. And I knew about his horrible mustache. My stomach flipped at the sight of him. "Really Mrs. Hudson I should be going. I just needed to go upstairs for a moment and wanted to let you know."

Her face fell and she looked back at john. "We were about head that way. We can all go together." She looked over her shoulder. "Come on, John."

I let Mrs. Hudson out of her flat to lead us up the stairs. I turned my back before John got to the door. I didn't want to offer him my greeting. I could feel his eyes on me as we climbed the stairs. Mrs. Hudson opened the door to their old flat and the smell of old and dust hit me. I walked in first and john followed, pausing at the door.

"I couldn't face letting it out." She said as she crossed the room to the window. She opened the curtain and coughed when the dust flew into her face. "He never liked me dusting." She whispered almost to herself.

John had moved to look at the kitchen now. "No, I know." He responded to her.

I retreated into Sherlock's room trying to find someway to his the clothing from them. When I returned to the living room they both looked at me. "He had some old files that Mycroft needs." I lied.

They both nodded and Mrs. Hudson continued on. "Well, go on what is it?"

"I've got some news." John said his voice bouncing around the flat.

Mrs. Hudson scrunched her face. "Oh god. Is it serious?"

He turned his head, his eyes catching mine. "No- no. I'm not I'll. I, er, well, I'm... Moving on." He looked directly at me this time.

"You're emigrating?" Mrs. Hudson eyed him sadly.

He was still looking at me when he answered her "No, I'm not moving. I've, er, I've met someone."

I lowered my head and tuned out the rest of the conversation. He hadn't just met her. He had been seeing her. The last night I saw him, he had told me about her. He said he thought he could love her and that was enough for him. That I was too much and I didn't know what I wanted. Perhaps he was right.

"I'm sorry. Congratulations John. I really must be going." I moved to the door before turning back, "The mustache doesn't suit you."

I returned to the office, handing over Sherlock's duffle bag to Anthea. I walked in on the barber slowly shaving Sherlocks face. He had already finished his hair. He and Mycroft were bickering over how long it had taken Mycroft to step in and save him. As the bickered I moved to the barber, taking the straight razor from him and pushing Sherlock's head back down on the chair head. When I had finished Anthea was entering the room with Sherlock's suit, fresh on a hanger. He stood and smiled grabbing the suit from her.

"I need you to give this matter your full attention Sherlock." Mycroft told him.

Sherlock ignored him and began dressing. Looking at himself in the mirror, he finally turned to me. "What do you think of this shirt?" He asked.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft boomed at him.

He turned to him momentarily, "I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." He turned back to me and motioned at his shirt. I nodded at him in approval and held his jacket up for him. "Just put me back in London." He said sliding his arms into the jacket. "I need to get to know the place again. Breathe it in - feel every quiver of its beating heart."

Anthea handed him a file, "One of our men died getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there is going to be a terror strike on London. A big one."

He opened the file briefly, "And what about John Watson."

"John?" Mycroft asked.

"Mhmm, have you seen him?" He had turned back in my direction. The question was more for me than Mycroft, though he answered. "Oh yes - we meet up every Friday for fish and chips." He stated sarcastically before motioning for Anthea to hand Sherlock another folder.

He snatched it from her and opened it quickly.

It was the file Mycroft kept on John. There were recent photos of him inside. Both sporting his new mustache.

"You haven't been in touch with him at all, to prepare him?" Mycroft asked.

"No." Sherlock said bluntly. He took the photo out to look at it more closely. "Well, we'll have to get rid of that, won't we?" He turned the photo around to show me. He looked disapprovingly.

"We?" Mycroft asked.

"He looks ancient. I can't be seen wandering around with an old man." Sherlock replaced the picture and snapped the file closed, dropping it on Mycroft's desk.

Anthea left the office and Sherlock returned to the mirror to look himself over. "I think I'll surprise John. He'll be delighted."

Mycroft cracked a smile, "You think so?"

"Hmm. I'll pop into Baker Street. Who knows - jump out of a cake." He mused.

"He isn't at Baker Street anymore." I chimed in.

Sherlock turned, looking surprised.

"Why would he be?" Mycroft asked. "Its been two years. He's moved on with his life."

"What life?" Sherlock snapped back. "I've been away."

Mycroft looked disappointed and I rolled my eyes. Just like Sherlock to think the world, at least John's world, revolved around him.

"Where's he going to be tonight?" Sherlock asked, breaking the silence.

"How would I know?" Mycroft quipped.

"You always know." Sherlock's tone more serious now.

Mycroft sighed, obviously debating telling him the information he did, in fact, have. "He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion... Though I prefer the 2001..." He trailed off.

"I think maybe I'll drop by." Sherlock said to himself.

"It is possible that you won't be welcomed." I stated plainly, knowing I would be roped into this somehow.

"No it isn't." He brushed me off, searching the room. "Now where is it?"

"Where is what?" Mycroft asked, annoyed.

At that moment Anthea reentered the room, holding Sherlock's beloved Belstaf coat. He smiled at her in delight and quickly slid into his coat, popping the collar as he always did.

"Welcome back, Mr. Holmes." Anthea smiled at him.

"Thank you." He looked back to Mycroft. "Blud." He said before heading out the door. "Come sister!" He called back. "Its time to surprised our dear Watson."

I groaned. Mycroft gestured for me to follow him, letting me know that I hadn't had a choice.


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock dragged me all over London during the afternoon and when evening fell, we headed straight for Marylebone Road. Surprising John at dinner was a terrible idea. After his news this morning I was sure that a nice dinner like the one he was having would result in his proposal to his girlfriend.

Sherlock stood outside the restaurant contemplating his next move.

"I'm not going in with you." I said plainly. "This is a terrible idea. He's thought you were dead for two years. He grieved you. He isn't going to take this well."

He smiled at me. "You don't know him the way I do. He will be thrilled." He walked in then.

Time passed and finally I heard loud commotion inside. I ran in seeing a mirad of waitors and patrons pulling John off of Sherlock. It had gone as I expected.

John stormed out of the restaurant, his girlfriend, Mary, in tow. I went to Sherlock and helped him to his feet. "I told you he would not be delighted, Sherlock!" I snapped at him once he was off the floor.

He ignored me, running out after John. I followed seeing Mary trying to calm John as they waited for a cab.

"Just hear me out, John." Sherlock pleaded. "We can go to the cafe down the street."

John huffed loudly. "Fine." He said walking past Sherlock and grabbing Mary's hand.

"Can I go home now, Sherlock?" I asked.

"No." He began walking, catching up to John.

Once inside the cafe, John and Mary sat opposite Sherlock and I. Something was off about Mary. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it had felt like I'd seen her somewhere before.

"I see. Yes. 'Why' that is a little difficult to explain." Sherlock responded to something John had said.

John sat back in his chair, "I've got all night."

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked down at the table, "Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea." He stumbled.

"Oh so it was your brothers plan." He snapped.

"Well he would have needed a confidant..." Mary interjected until John shot her a hard look. "Sorry." She whispered.

"But he was the only one? The only one that knew?" John asked.

Sherlock lowered his head, "Couple of others." He forced out. When John lowered his head, sherlock began to explain quickly, "it was a very elaborate plan - it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities..."

John cut him off with a whisper, "Who else?" He looked back at Sherlock, "Who else knew?" John waited for a moment but when sherlock didn't answer he raised his voice. "Who?!"

"Molly." Sherlock finally said.

"Molly?" John asked, anger booming through his voice. Mary tried to calm him, but Sherlock continued talking.

"Molly hooper - and some of my homeless network, and that's all." He was purposely glossing over our meeting at the flat.

"Okay." John said, straightening himself and looking from Mary back to Sherlock. "So just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps."

Sherlock chuckled, "No!" He answered, "Twenty-five at most. And Ansley."

John looked to me for a split second before he hurled himself back at Sherlock. For the second time.

We were all promptly kicked out of the cafe and Mary had convinced John to move down to a Kabab shop.

I refused to join them, though Sherlock kept insisting.

I went back to his flat and waited for him to return. Mrs. Hudson had been out when I arrived, which was lucky for me.

The hours passed and a text from Greg alerted me that Sherlock was making his rounds.

'He's a bloody bastard.' Was all the text said.

I had heard Mrs. Hudson return earlier and from her shrieking downstairs it was clear to me that Sherlock had finally made his way to the flat. I descended the stairs to check it out just in case there was something truely wrong. Halfway down I was able to see Mrs. Hudson hugging sherlock, making him extremely uncomfortable. She was mumbling something I couldn't hear to him.

When he was able to break free of her, he spotted me on the stairs. "Excuse me Mrs. Hudson. There is work to be done."

He walked past me to through the door. I walked in, stifuling my laughter.

"What's funny?" He snapped.

I made my way to him looking at his nose. "You made him so mad he head butted you?" I asked. The injury hadn't been consistent to that of a fist. A forehead, however, was not out of the question.

"I suppose presuming he would be pleased was a missed deduction." He admitted, taking a seat in his chair.

I made my way to the kitchen for ice and asprin. "You don't say?" I asked sarcastically. "What do you plan on doing about the attack?"

He groaned. "Homeless network. Rats. They move, I know. I've got it handled." He said taking the asprin and ice for his nose.

"He'll come 'round, Sherlock. He can't stay away from you long." I grabbed my coat off the couch.

"Where are you going?" He looked at me, "Don't tell me. Date?"

I smiled and raised my eyebrows before turning to leave.

I met Greg outside of 221b. "Ready?" He asked.

"Let's go." I said, stepping into the car as he held the door open for me.

We were well on our way to a late dinner at an all night Chinese place before he spoke, "Did you know?" He asked me.

"Know what?" I asked, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"He was alive." He sighed.

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't know he was faking it, but I did run into him at his flat a couple months later." I admitted.

He nodded his head and went silent until we reached the Chinese place.

He opened my door for me but he didn't acknowledge my thanks, nor did his eyes meet mine.

We went in and were seated promptly. He still wasn't talking to me. "If you're going to be mad at me for the rest of the night, let me know."

He shook his head. "I'm not mad. I'm relieved. I've been listening to Anderson go on for two years on his crack pot stories of how he knew Sherlock was still alive and he was right." He took my hand in his. "I understand why you didn't tell anyone." The rest of our night was pleasant. I had been spending more time at Greg's house since his divorce finalized.

News of Sherlock being alive spread like wildfire. He had assured Mycroft over a crippling game of operation that he was on the case and he would be closing in as soon as he had something definite.

At the office, Mycroft had been running me ragged. Between late nights with Greg, when our schedules finally met, and the less important missions Mycroft was sending me on, I was exhausted. I hadn't had any time to visit Sherlock since the night he reappeared in everyone's lives.

"Ansley." Mycroft paged to my desk.

I entered his office, "Yes, brother?" I asked.

"Sherlock needs you. His flat. Now."

I nodded and went on my way.

When I entered 221b I could hear familiar voices. I ran up the stars and saw my mother and father standing outside of Sherlock's flat, he was trying to close the door on them.

"Mummy! Dad!" I almost screamed. Sherlock saw me from the door and rolled his eyes. Our parents had always liked me best. He closed the door when they turned to see me.

"Ansley." My dad looked at me and held his arms out to me. I hugged him tightly before moving to my mum.

"You're not looking well, dear." She said pulling me into her. "You're too thin. Dad and I are going for lunch before going to see Mycroft. Join us, love. You need to eat." She said letting go of me.

I smiled at her, "I can't mum. Important work." I pointed to the flat.

She nodded, "My genious children, always working. We're her til Saturday, dear. See us before then." It wasn't a question.

"Yes ma'am." I said before moving past them to the door.

I walked in and began talking before I realized the situation I had just placed myself in. "You shouldn't be so rude to them, Sherlock. They did give us life." I mused sarcastically.

My eyes fell on John. "Oh. Mycroft... I'll come back." I stammered.

"Wrong. You'll stay. I need you." He snipped back.

John sat in his chair and began asking sherlock why he had been targeted last night.

"Targeted? What happened?" I inquired.

"John was drugged and put in a burn pile." Sherlock glossed over before returning to his conversation with John.

My heart skipped. Though I'd convinced myself that I didn't care whether he lived or died, the thought of John in danger was painful. I noted the lack of his mustache. Apparently he would shave for Sherlock Holmes.

I stood looking at the map and photos Sherlock had placed on his back wall. Soon he was next to me wondering why an agent would give his life for such and insignificant piece of information. I had wondered the same.

John was next to sherlock, pointing at a photograph. "I know him don't I?"

"Lord Moran." I answered. "Peer of the realm. Minister for Overseas Development. Pillar of the establishment."

"Yes!" John shouted in realization.

"He's been working for North Korea since 1996." Sherlock interjected. "He's the big rat. Rat number one. And he's just done something very suspicious indeed."

John and I looked at him. This is why I was here. Sherlock motioned for us to follow him. John kept his distance as we moved to Sherlocks desk. He played a video of a midnight train. Lord Moran could be seen getting on, but when the train reached its stop, he was no where to be found.

Sherlock began pacing as John sat in front of the computer. "Yeah. Thats.." John paused, "Odd. There's no where he could have gotten off?"

"Not on any maps." Sherlock confirmed. His phone chimed and he quickly took it out of his pocket.

"Any idea who they are - this underground network." John asked. His question being left up in the air. "Intelligence must have a list of the most obvious ones." He looked at me.

I shook my head. We did have a list, but none of the obvious ones had been a threat in London as of late. I shooed him out of the chair so I could take a better look. Sherlock began talking about the rat coming out if his den.

Rewatching the footage I finally caught it. Sherlock had noticed it too.

"What are you talking about?" John asked. I had been so caught up in the footage I had missed Sherlock going on on about being an idiot and how our intelligence wasn't a waste.

"Look." He said reaching over my shoulder to replay the footage again. "There. Seven carriages leave Westminster." He paused the video, "But only six arrive at St. James' Park."

"The driver must have detached somewhere." I added.

"Where?" John asked. "He said there was nothing between the stations."

"Nothing on the maps." Sherlock corrected.

"The maps!" I yelled before jumping out of my chair. I've got to go. I'll be in touch." I said running out the door.

I hurried back to the office and burst into Mycroft's office. My parents were there finally. "I need maps of the subway that involve the closed Sumatra Road Station. It wouldnt be on any of the updates." I said breathlessly.

He slid his access card to me. "Take what you need." He said shooing me off.

After what felt like hours I found it. Sumatra road had a station that was built almost completely before legality came into play. The station was right under Westminster palace. There was an all night sit in for a new bill vote in the palace tonight.

I pulled my phone out and dialed Sherlock. When he answered I began talking quickly.

He stopped me. "We know. We're going. Call on everyone. There's a bomb." He hung up the phone.

I gather two bomb experts and informed Mycroft of my plans. "Lead them down there and stay out of their way once you're there." He hung up on me.

We were dressed in fireproof, bomb squad clothing. We defended the stairs into the closed station and jumped on to the tracks. We weren't sure what we would find, but since the palace was still standing, the bomb was either not there or hadn't went off yet. We approached the missing carriage and saw Sherlock and John inside.

The bomb was disarmed permanently and john and Sherlock seemed to have made up.

The next day Greg called and invited me out for the afternoon. Mycroft was at the noon showing of 'Les Mis' he'd promised to take our parents to. Not that he hadn't tried to push it off on Sherlock and I.

If I had known the lunch we were going to would be at Sherlock's flat with John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, and eventually Molly and her fiance Tom, who looked creepily like Sherlock.

Mary and Mrs. Hudson had been talking about her and John's wedding.

"Well I can't wait." Greg said resting his arm around my shoulders and raising his glass in a toast.

I, however, could.


	26. Chapter 26

Greg had invited me to John's wedding as his plus one. As I'd expected, I hadn't received an invitation not that I was sure I'd go. I had declined. He looked hurt before he left. Somehow he knew he would always come second in my heart.

There was a knock on the door during the early evening. It was John.

I opened the door wider and stood aside, welcoming him in.

"We need to talk." He said moving past me.

I sat on a chair across from him on the couch. He placed an envelope addressed to me on the table.

"I meant to mail it a dozen times, but it didn't feel right." He looked at me, sitting back. "How long did you know he was alive? The grief, everything. Was it all a lie?"

I shook my head. "I hadn't been informed. The night I stayed at his flat. He was there." I sighed. "That's how I found out. Everything before was real."

He nodded his head slowly. "And you couldn't have phoned? Let me know."

"No." I said plainly. "It was too dangerous. Need to know. Had I not caught him there, I would not have been on that list either."

He sat quietly for a moment. "He's my best man. He's nervous. He'd be better if you were there." He stood readying himself to leave. "I'm not asking you to come for me." With that he left my flat.

Once he was gone I opened the envelope. Inside a wedding invitation. It was this coming Saturday and I had a big decision to make.

After John's visit, I didn't see much of them. That was until John's bachelor party. He and Sherlock had gotten more drunk than intended and then tried to work a case. Greg informed me of their incarceration and told me to leave them til morning.

The next morning we drove up to the station and had them released. Greg yelling the whole time as if to punish them more for landing themselves in jail.

I decided I would go to the wedding, but only the wedding. I wouldn't be able to watch people toast to the happy couple.

The day came and I woke early to dress. Looking through my closet I found the perfect dress. Silky, black with a slit to the mid thigh and a plunging neck line, and long sleeves. I took a box off the top shelf and opened it to reveal a bright red veiled hat.

I pulled the dress on put my hair into a bun, securing it with at least one hundred bobby pins. I place light make up on my face, coloring my lips a bright red, similar to my headwear.

I was the last to enter the church. Taking a place at the very back, closest to a side exit. I was in full view of John, but hidden from the group of attendants.

Finally he had spotted me. His face fell. I knew why and I enjoyed his reaction. My emotions had been getting the better of me.

Though I hated it, the ceremony was beautiful. He looked incredibly happy. I felt tears beginning to well in my eyes. Once the 'I do's' were said, I made my quiet exit. As the door of the church closed, I raised my head and made my way to the car I had waiting. A single tear fell as I entered the vehicle. "Take me home." I instructed.

That night I didn't hear from Greg. I sat on my bed, a slender, silver box sitting next to me. I eyed the box, touching it lightly with my fingers.

The contents of the box were the secrets of a dark past. The one thing that made it easier for me to cope.

I began frantically pulling the bobby pins out of my hair. My heart pounding in my chest. An unbearable pain.

I sat, breathless. My hair in tangles at my shoulders. I opened the box. My fingers toyed with a small bag at the top. They moved tenderly over a needle and a small silver spoon. My brother's vice was my personal hell.

The familiar rush that I so often missed hit me as soon as the needle was out of my arm. In that moment I felt as if I did a million things. In retrospect, I had only attempted to pull off my dress.

I laid out on the bed, my dress half off. My mind slowing, my eyes becoming heavier. At last, I didn't hurt.

I woke in a hospital bed. My head hurt. My eyes were blurry. I could make out a figure sleeping. Its head resting on my hand. My mouth was dry, my throat sore. I couldn't figure out what had happened.

The figure began to stir. It turned its head in my direction. "You're awake!" It was Greg. His voice echoed through my head.

I tried to clear my eyes, but my hands weren't moving.

Greg lifted my arm slightly until a cuff pulled it back. "Suicide risk." He said bluntly. "They called Sherlock. He told John and Mary. John insisted on taking over, so we let him."

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. This was hell.

"I stopped by that night. When I couldn't get you, I went around to the fire escape. Your window was open. Everyone has a lot of questions." He walked out of the room.

A moment later John walked in. He was alone. "That was a very stupid thing you did." He said looking at my chart. He looked up at me, frowning. "You haven't touched it in years and now you do this."

"It wasn't on purpose, John. Come off it." I snapped.

He began shaking his head. "You expect me to believe that?" He moved closer. "You show up at my wedding looking dressed for a funeral. You go home right after the ceremony. And then Greg finds you half dead of an overdose and you expect me to believe it was an accident." He pursed his lips and pulled out a pen. "I'm ordering 24/7 psychiatric observation and heavy sedation. They'll move you this afternoon."

My eyes widened and I looked up at him, "No! John!" I yelled. He began walking away. "You can't let them lock me up too!" He walked through the door. "JOHN!" I screamed. I began thrashing against the bed trying to pull free. Tears fell freely from my eyes. All my life I'd been running away from her. Trying not to be like her, and now they were locking me away. I was still, what she made me.


	27. Chapter 27

After months of observation and sedation, I had finally lost myself. No longer did I feel anything. My only wish was to go back to work. To stay away from my middle brother and his companion. Perhaps I would take up more missions like Serbia. I'd missed stretching my legs, and my trigger finger.

One afternoon, the door finally opened. Mycroft walked in, shutting it again behind him. He sat in a chair crossing his legs.

"Well, little sister, have you learned your lesson now?" He asked sarcastically.

"I want to be out Mycroft." I snapped.

He looked at me. "John informed me of what you said at the hospital, Ansley. Don't worry I cleaned it up, but if you ever mention her again, I'll make sure youre locked away forever."

I swallowed hard. "Yes, brother. I am sorry." I looked down at the floor.

"Very good. Now." He stood. "Get your things. Mother and father want you home for Christmas." He opened the door for me, knowing that I had no belongings here.

He had me taken back to my flat so I could shower, change, and pack for our trip home to see our parents. Once we were on our way, he began informing me of everything I'd missed.

Mary was pregnant, she was also a former A.G.R.A agent. I had know something seemed off about her. She and Sherlock had been after the same man, Charles Magnussen. She had shot Sherlock to protect herself. Apparently she and John hadn't been talking for quite some time.

Magnussen was a prominent on our watch list, but just as Jim Moriarty, he hadn't actually committed any crimes.

Mother and Father weren't aware that Mary had shot Sherlock. And I wasn't to say a word.

We always spent the week with mum and dad when Christmas time rolled around. Nothing pleased them more than having us all home again. Mycroft and Sherlock had no problem showing their displeasure. I was happy to home, with them. As far away from London and the continuation of my life as I could be.

Mycroft left one day and Sherlock pulled me aside. "Snap out of it. You're so dull this way." He looked at me placing his hands on my shoulders. "Besides, I have something for you to help me with."

The look on his face told me I wasn't going to like what he had to say. "I need to help John."

I cut him off, "I'm not helping John, Sherlock."

"You tried to kill yourself on his wedding day, he put you in the mental ward. Get over it. Its all so very boring." He rolled his eyes and turned away from me. "Magnussen has a file on Mary. I need to get it. You're going to help, in turn helping John and fixing your friendship." He said, turning back, smiling.

I sighed. I wouldn't say no to him, and I wouldn't say no to making sure John stayed happy. "Fine."

"Do you know the password to Mycroft's laptop?" He asked.

"Of course I do." I answered.

He smiled his half smile and steepled his hands under his chin. "Perfect. On Christmas, everyone will be here. You and Bill will administer their doses." He handed me a small vile. "Don't worry. It won't hurt anyone, just make them sleep. Bill made it himself. Make sure you don't drink any." He began pacing. "Once everyone is out, grab the laptop and follow me."

I shook my head. This was real trouble what he was asking me to do, and as a smile began to form, I knew and he knew I was going to do it.

Mum and I were in the kitchen when Mary arrived. She was more pregnant than I had expected. She was polite to us all, but we could tell she was worried. Seeing how John didn't come with her, I didn't blame her.

"I'll start the tea." Mum said.

I stepped in front of her. "I've got it, mum. Why don't you go talk to Mary?" I smiled.

She was absolutely delighted. As was I. Our plan was set in motion.

John arrived a while later. He greeted everyone, saving me for last.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Fine." I said coldly.

"I signed your release the day after you were moved. Mycroft insisted keeping you in for that long. I'm sorry." His eyes were apologetic.

I smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, John. All is forgiven." I leaned in closer, "And perhaps you could use that yourself." I whispered eying the doorway to the sitting room. "She's been waiting for you."

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it before winking at me, "I think you may be right."

My mum came in the kitchen, "Give me Mary's tea, dear." She reached her hands out.

"I can take it Mrs. Holmes." John told her.

My mother looked at him, "This tea is for Mary, Dr. Watson, and I'll take it to her.

I was able to slip the dose for Mary into her tea without anyone noticing. I put the rest in the punch. Once Mycroft had finished whining, we all snuck outside for a smoke.

" No." Mycroft said to me. "If you come, we'll be caught for sure. Come out after us."

I rolled my eyes and went back in the house. I could see John and Mary at the mantel talking, finally. Mum pushed past me and opened the door to yell at her sons. She smiled as she passed me and grabbed my shoulder. She yawned

Dad had retreated to the sitting room off the kitchen. I could see him sitting on the sofa. Sherlock said it should only take about 7 minutes once they all drank the tonic, which we made sure they did at the same time.

Minutes passed and mum was asleep in the armchair in the kitchen. Mycroft's head fell onto the table next to his laptop. I heard dad's cup clatter and watched as he slowly feel to his side.

"Mary. Can you hear me?" I heard John calling out to his, now sleeping, wife.

Sherlock ran into the sitting room and I took the computer from Mycroft.

Sherlock came back through, checking everyone to make sure they were still breathing.

"Did you just drug my pregnant wife?" John came in asking.

"Don't worry." Sherlock said pointing to Bill. "Wiggins is an excellent chemist."

Bill stepped out of the corner of the kitchen. "I monitored your wife's dose meself. No harm will come to the little one. I'll keep an eye on her."

"He'll monitor they're recovery. Its more or less his day job." Sherlock looked my way and saw the laptop in my hands.

"What have you done?" John said, looking between the two of us.

"A deal with the devil." Sherlock responded.

John began looking around. "Oh Jesus." He walked to the door of the sitting room containing my father. "Have you lost your minds?" He asked turning back to us.

Sherlock smiled. "I'd rather keep you guessing."

A helicopter could be heard approaching. "Theres our lift." Sherlock said, motioning to us.

We followed him outside where a helicopter was landing in the field in front of our parents cottage. Sherlock stopped short the helicopter. "Coming?" He asked John.

"Where?" John asked.

"D'you want your wife to be safe?" Sherlock countered.

"Of course." John stated.

We were all standing outside of the helicopter. John had a choice. For us, there was no choice.

Sherlock smiled. "Good. This is going to be incredibly dangerous." He moved closer to John "One false move and we'll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison of high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we've ever encountered and the odds are stack comprehensively against us." Sherlock informed.

"But its Christmas." John whined.

Sherlock smiled. "I feel the same." He said before seeing John's expression. "Oh you meant its actually Christmas." He looked to both of us. "Did you bring your guns as I insisted?"

I nodded and John looked puzzled. "Why would I bring my gun to your parents' house for Christmas dinner?"

"Its in your coat isn't it?" Sherlock smiled again.

"Yes." John had complied. "Where are we going."

"Appledore." Sherlock stated plainly before climbing into the helicopter.


	28. Chapter 28

Our journey ended on the lawn of a large house. Or perhaps it had just begun. Sherlock climbed down first and John motioned for me to go ahead before he jumped down. We were greeted by a group of security personnel who escorted us inside.

We saw Magnussen sitting on his large, white sofa with a drink in his hand. "I would offer you a drink, but its very rare and expensive." He took another sip.

Sherlock was the first to sit. He reached out for the laptop and I handed it to him.

"Who might this young beauty be?" Magnussen asked, his eyes fixed on me. "Interesting." He said looking toward the wall with a film of John being rescued from the fire.

"So it was you then?" Sherlock said setting the laptop between the two of them. Ignoring his inquiry into who I was.

"Yes of course." He said watching his masterpiece.

John turned and saw himself on the screen.

"Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes."

John was moving toward the wall. His mouth gaping open.

"The drugs thing I never believed for a moment." He smiled. "Anyway you wouldn't care if that were exposed, would you?"

Sherlock tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders, smiling slightly.

Magnussen turned his head to the screen again. "But look at how you care for John Watson." He flicked his eyes in my direction. "Your damsal in distress."

John turned to Magnussen. His face angered. "You..." He paused. "Put me in a fire... For leverage?"

"Oh I'd never let you burn, Dr. Watson." Magnussen sat up, placing his glass on the table. "I had people standing by." He stood then, Sherlock following his every move. As was I. "Im not a murderer... Unlike your wife." He hissed.

John stared at him. His fists were clenched and his jaw tight. Magnussen simply slipped by him moving to the wall.

"Let me explain how leverage works, Dr. Watson." He slid the footage of john off the wall and slid a picture of Mycroft up. "For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful person in the country. Well..." He paused, "apart from me."

I was intrigued. So was Sherlock. Finally, someone who knew what they were doing.

Magnussen winked at me. "Mycroft's pressure point is his junkie brother," A photo of Sherlock showed up under Mycroft's. "And his mouthy, suicidal sister." My picture slid on screen. "Yes, darling. You've had a rather eventful year." I clenched my teeth. "Now, surprising to me as well, both of their pressure points appear to be you, John Watson. And John Watson's pressure point is his wife." He began smiling, "I own your wife. I own Mycroft Holmes." He had turned to Sherlock at this point. "He's what I'm getting for Christmas" he sat a little closer to Sherlock now, almost touching the laptop. He reached his hand forward.

Sherlock slid the laptop to him. "Its an exchange, not a gift." Sherlock stood then, he moved in my direction before turning back to Magnussen.

Magnussen ran his finger down the back of the computer. "Forgive me but, I already seem to have it."

"Its password protected." Sherlock smirked. "In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson."

"Oh she's bad that one. So many dead people. You should see what I've seen." He looked directly at John.

"I don't need to see it." John snapped.

"You might enjoy it." Magnussen teased.

John nodded. He wasn't at all surprised by what magnussen had said.

"Then why don't you show us?" I spoke up.

"Show you Appledore?" He smiled. "Is that what you want?"

"I want everything you have on Mary." Sherlock said through clenched teeth.

Magnussen's game was over. Just as I suspected, he already knew.

He laid our plan out perfectly for Sherlock. From the GPS in the laptop, down to Mycroft showing up to see Government secrets in his hands. Still he smiled.

"Just because you know its happening isn't going to stop it." Sherlock stated.

"Then why am I smiling?" He looked back to Sherlock. "Ask me."

John was tired of playing, "Why are you smiling?" He stepped toward Magnussen.

"Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake that will destroy the lives of everyone he loves..." He moved his eyes back onto Sherlock. "And everything he holds dear." He stood then. "Let me show you the Appledore Vaults." He moved between Sherlock and I heading to set of double doors. He placed his hand on the door knob. "The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all." He opened the door then, showing us all our greatest fear. The room was nothing more than a closet, painted bright white, and containing only a chair.

A few moments of silence was broken by John. "Okay - so where are the vaults then?"

"Vaults?" Magnussen asked.

"There are no vaults." I closed my eyes in disappointment.

"Quite right, precious." He said sitting in the chair, facing us all. "They're all in here." He put his hand to his temple. "The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know all about Mind Palaces don't you, Sherlock?" I saw Sherlocks mouth begin to gape. "How to store information and never forget it - by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes, and down to my vaults I go."

He explained his movements and how he looks through his files. I was going insane. I had my hand on my gun before I realized what I was doing. Luckily, I didn't draw it. His every word made it harder for me not kill him then and there.

"So there are no documents. You don't actually have anything here." John stated the painfully obvious.

"Oh, sometimes I send out for something." He looked down at his watch, "If I really need it. But mostly I just remember it all."

"I don't understand." John said shaking his head.

"You should have that put on a T-shirt." Magnussen toyed.

"You just remember it all?" John asked again.

"Its all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning." He looked at Sherlock then.

"So you just know it. You don't actually have any proof then?"

Magnussen stood. "Proof? What would I need proof for. I'm in news, you moron. I don't need to prove it - I just need to print it." He hissed.

I was shaking my head. What had he done? How could he have been so reckless. "Speaking of news - you'll all be heavily featured tomorrow - trying to sell state secrets to me." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at us before checking his watch again. "Let's go outside. They'll be here shortly." He lead the way out of the room and back into the sitting room. We stood there as he walked out onto the patio we had entered from. "What have you done?" I whispered to Sherlock. He didn't answer.

"Do we have a plan?" John closed in on Sherlock too. He still wasn't answering. He just closed his eyes. "Sherlock." John said slightly louder than a whisper. He threw his arms up and walked away. I followed.

"He has to die, John. Its the only way to keep Mary safe."

He looked at me wide eyed. "That's not any better a plan than Sherlock becoming mute." He shook his head. He walked out on the patio. I sighed.

Sherlock was moving again. He was heading for the patio. It wouldn't be long now.

"How does that work?" John was asking when we stepped outside.

Magnussen turned to him. "I just love your little soldier face. I'd like to punch it." He smiled. "Bring it over here a minute."

John turned back looking to Sherlock for guidance. What he got was Sherlock telling him to do it.

"For Mary. Bring me your face." When john looked back at Magnussen he was nodding. John cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Lean forward a bit. And stick your face out." John cleared his throat again and did as he was told.

Magnussen began flicking his face and explained exactly what he knew about Mary. Spelling out plainly how he could destroy us all.

"Can I do your eye now?" He asked as if John had a choice. "See if you can keep it open."

"Sherlock." John was calling for someone to help.

I stepped forward, Sherlock grabbed my wrist holding me back. Silently pleading to let it happen. "Let him do it. I'm sorry." He called back to John. I saw John adjust again. "Just..." Sherlock was lost. "Let him."

Magnussen was enjoying this. He had us and he could do anything he wanted.

Suddenly we heard Mycroft's voice and a helicopter. "Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Ansley Holmes. Step away from that man."

"Here we go, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock's moved to John's side. His hand still on my wrist pulling me along. "Just to clarify the Appledore vaults are only in your mind, nowhere else, just there?"

"They're not real. They never have been." He threw his hands up. He expected he had won.

Mycroft's voice boomed again urging us to stand down.

Armed officers began in circling us radioing back that we were unarmed.

"Its fine. They're harmless." Magnussen yelled to my eldest.

John asked what we were going to do and magnussen joyfully informed them that there was nothing to be done. He was no villain and Sherlock was no hero.

"I'm a high - functioning Sociopath." Sherlock yelled pulling John's gun from his jacket and pointing it at magnussen firing less that a minute later.

I pulled my gun as Sherlock threw his down yelling for us to get away from him.

I moved in front of him aimed my pistol directly at the helicopter. "Stand down, Mycroft." I yelled. Their guns were pointed on Sherlock and myself now. "Stand down!"

I could see him lower his head. "Do not fired on them." His voice boomed. "Do not fire on Holmes!"

I lowered my gun to the floor.

"Jesus Christ. What have you both done?" John asked.

"Give my love to Mary." Sherlock said looking at John. "Tell her she's safe now."

I nodded to John before following Sherlock to the head of the stairs. We both lowered to our knees. "You're incredibly stupid." He said to me.

"And you aren't?" I asked as we were placed in handcuffs.

I was placed in a guarded facility to await Mycroft's instructions.

"You pointed your gun at me. Does that not strike you as odd?" Mycroft asked me.

"I was protecting..."

"Don't give me that." He cut me off. "I would never have let them fire on him and you know that." He sighed. "I thought I'd be able to change you, Ansley. Just as I thought you've forgotten her, she gets the best of you." He shook his head. "You're not working with the government anymore. Its not up for debate. I should have you locked up, but I won't. So go home." He stood then.

"What's to happen to Sherlock?" I asked.

"He's leaving." He left the door open. And like that I was free to go.

I hadn't been allowed to see Sherlock off. Mycroft kept us far apart from each other. He had known that though it was Sherlock's plan, I went along with it going so far as to be the one that stole the laptop.

I sat at home, reflecting on what Mycroft had said to me. And in that moment, I couldn't be sure that I wouldn't have killed him had he not made the police stand down. I couldn't even decide if I'd felt bad about it if it had turned out that way.


	29. Chapter 29

Greg stopped by my flat the day that Sherlock was to be exiled. "Let's grab a drink, shall we?" He asked.

It had been a while since I'd seen him. He was looking better than he had before. "You go. I'll be alright." I said.

He moved to stand in front of me on the couch, his hand gently lofting my chin. "You need a drink." He said calmly. He didn't want to leave me alone. He was worried.

I nodded, noting the pitch changes in his voice, knowing that it wasn't a request. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. Our bodies were close together, but he turned and lead me to the door.

We went to a pub down the street from my house. So man drunk patrons yelling at the game on TV. We went to the bar and Greg order two whiskeys and two beers.

"A little early for hard liquor isn't it?" I asked playfully.

"Not when you do what we do." He said picking his glass up off the bar and handing me mine.

We were there for about an hour when the television started to go out. Had it not been for the yelling patron next to us, I wouldn't have noticed. For the first time in a long while I was actually enjoying Greg's company.

Greg looked up and the screen for a moment, but his eyes stuck to it. I looked over to see the side profile of a man, slowly turning to face forward.

"Did you miss me?" Started playing repetitively, and it was coming from the mouth on none other than Jim Moriarty.

My phone went off. There was a text from Mycroft.

'Welcome back. Await further instructions.' It read. I looked back to the television screen.

Later that night Sherlock and I were called into Mycroft's office.

"We will be having a classified meeting tomorrow, in which you will both be cleared of all discrepancies." He told us. "You are to be here no later that seven - thirty tomorrow morning." He walked to the back of his desk. "Do stay out of trouble until then." He commanded.

Sherlock and I left together. "Moriarty, then?" I asked.

He shook his head, eyes fixed on his phone. "Can't be. He's dead."

"So were you." I stated.

The next morning Sherlock and I were sat in front of a panel made of four officials and a minute. Mycroft was standing to the side of us.

"What you are about to see is classified beyond top secret." He began. A video popped up on the screen behind the panel. The video showed four perspectives of the scene at Magnussen's house. Mycroft turned to face the officials. "Is that quiet clear? Do not note any of this."

The minute taker, a woman well into her seventies, lowered the glasses she was about to set into place.

Mycroft continued, "Once beyond these walls, you must never speak of it. A D-notice has been placed on the entire incident. Only those within this room - code names Antarctica, Langdale, Pollock, and Love - will ever know the whole truth."

Though I was paying attention, Sherlock was engaged heavily with his phone. Typing rather rapidly.

"As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and beyond, Charles Augustus..." Mycroft looked down at Sherlock, "Are you tweeting?" He asked appalled.

Sherlock covered his phone and looked up, "No." The sound of a tweet sending echoed through the room.

"That's what it looks like," Mycroft snapped.

"Of course I'm not tweeting. Why would I be tweeting?" Sherlock lied.

"Give me that." Mycroft said reaching for the phone.

"What? No. Get off. What are you doing?" Sherlock and Mycroft began fighting over the phone. Sherlock repeatedly telling him to get off. They looked like children.

Finally Mycroft snatched the phone from him and began scrolling through. "Back on Terra firma." He quoted.

"Don't read them outloud," sherlock said, feigning embarrassment.

"Free as a bird." Mycroft continued.

"God your such a spoilsport." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Will you take this matter seriously, Sherlock?" He barked.

Sherlock looked to me, making a face, like we used to do as children before turning back to Mycroft. "I am taking it seriously. What makes you think I'm not taking it seriously?"

Mycroft looked back at the phone "Hashtag OhWhatABeautifulMorning." He read.

I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to be here any longer. Scrutinized by every eye here.

"Look," sherlock shrugged. "Not too long ago I was on a mission that meant certain death. My death. And now I'm back in a nice, warm office with my big brother and l..." He trailed off, "Are those ginger nuts?" He jumped from the chair toward the table, grabbing a handful of busicts off the plate.

"Our doctors said you were clean." Lady Smallwood hissed.

"I am, utterly." Sherlock protested turning back to us and began walking to his chair. "No need for stimulants now, right? I have work to do."

"Your high as a kite." Sir Edwin said twisting his face.

"Natural high. I assure you." Sherlock spun to face him.


	30. Chapter 30 (09-30 19:43:59)

* I am so sorry and slightly embarrassed for just now realizing that this second part of the hearing in series 4 was never posted *

"Totally natural. I'm just happy to be aliiiive." He sang dramatically. "What shall we do next he asked, munching a biscuit and pointing to the elderly minute taker. " You - what's your name?"

"Vi - Vivian." She stumbled, unsure.

"Sherlock. Not now." I moaned. I hadn't wanted to be stuck here all day.

He waved me off and continued on, "What would you do, Vivian." He asked.

"I know what I'd do." I mumbeled.

He turned slightly to shush me and turned back to her.

"What?" She questioned.

"Well its a lovely day." He said.

"Isn't it?" I whispered.

"Go for a stroll?" He asked. "Make a paper airplane? Have an iced lolly?"

Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin were not amused.

"Ice lolly I suppose." Vivian answered.

"Ice lolly it is!" He boomed with a dramatic gesturing of his hands. "What's your favorite?" He pushed.

Vivian looked uneasily at her superiors. "Well I really shouldn't.."

"Go on." Sherlock encouraged.

"Do they still make mivvis?" She asked hopeful.

"Mr. Holmes." Lady Smallwood interjected.

"Yes?" Sherlock and Mycroft answered simultaneously. I could see Mycroft lowering his head, shaking it slightly.

"We must go on." She insisted.

"Yes of course." Mycroft said, straightening himself. He lifted his hand holding a remote and began playing the footage. It showed Sherlock moments before he shot Magnussen. Though it had been heavily doctored. I had been taken out completely, and it was made to look as if someone else shot Magnussen never giving Sherlock the chance to pull the trigger.

After the first play through Sherlock looked to Mycroft. "I see. Who is supposed to have shot him then?"

Sir Edwin answered, "An over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, that's who." He looked in my direction.

"Me?" I asked, confused.

They all nodded in agreement.

"That's not what happened at all." Sherlock said looking at me apologetically.

"It is now." Mycroft corrected.

Lady Smallwood was watching the footage replay, "Remarkable. How did you do it?" She asked.

"We have some very talented people working here." Sir Edwin answered. "If James Moriarty can hack every TV screen in the land, rest assured we have the tech to, er, doctor a bit of security footage." He cleared his throat, trying to get Sherlock's attention which had been focused on a bit of runaway biscuit. "That is now the official version; the version anyone we want to will see."

Lady Smallwood crossed her arms. "No need to go through the trouble of getting an official pardon for you. You're off the hook, Mr. Holmes. You're home and dry."

"Okay. Cheers." Sherlock said jumping from his chair to button his coat.

"Obviously there is unfinished business. Moriarty." Lady Smallwood interrupted.

"I told you. Moriarty is dead." He said proceeding to put on his over coat.

Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin continued to interrogate him about how he was going to handle the problem, to which his replies only made them skeptical of their decision.

"I always know when the game is on. D'you know why?" He asked heading for the door.

"Why?" Lady Smallwood asked unamused.

"Because I love it." He flashed a smile before exiting.

After his exit all eyes were on me. "Ms. Holmes." Lady Smallwood began. "You stole government property and threatened a superior official." She looked through a file on her desk. "And this isn't the first time you've been in trouble. Buckling under terrorist interrogation while on a top secret operation, helping your brother keep information hidden that could have threatened national security, using your clearance to enter an experimental facility again to help your brother, and now this. Three of four times you were helping him. It seems to me that Sherlock causes you more harm than good."

She wasn't wrong. "Yes ma'am." I answered sitting up straight.

"We've arranged an official pardon. Under the terms that you are to be psychologically evaluated regularly and you are to be revoked of your fire arm privileges." Sir Edwin informed. "And should you and your brother cause any more trouble, you will both face very serious consequences. Mycroft will monitor your progress and we will consider giving you rights back."

"Forgive me, but why? I was completely erased from the tape. I don't even have to be there." I pleaded.

"Unfortunately, one of our own has to take the fall for Sherlock's actions. And since you were there and you did commit these acts, you will be to blame." Lady Smallwood explained.

Mycroft concluded, "We're finished here. Good day." We were all dismissed.


	31. Chapter 31

I sat in an oversized and overstuffed chair, my legs crossed to the best of my ability. Across from me was a rather attractive man. He held a clipboard in his lap and a pen in his hand. Left handed, often regarded as some of the most intelligent people. The government paid him well. New watch, all gold, fresh manicure and hair cut, recently divorced; his choice of course yet someone was still doing his ironing. Not dry cleaned. New girlfriend...

"You're doing it again, Ms. Holmes. You managed to run the last doctor off, you won't do the same to me." He clicked the tip of his pen a few times. He noticeably refrained from doing it more; nervous tick.

I sighed heavily reaching over to the table to grab a cigarette. I held it up, "D'you mind?"

He gestured with his hand for me to go ahead. Lack of communication to make you want to fill the silence. I lit the cigarette and lounged my arms over the chair.

The silence persisted for a moment. "You're my only client all day, Ansley. Do you want to talk about your outbursts or do you want to sit in silence for days on end?" He shifted. Uncomfortable.

"Outbursts?" I asked. I knew what he was talking about, but he would work for what he wanted from me.

He lifted a few pages on his board. "Drug overdose, extended stay in the mental ward, oh, and of course assisting in the murder of Charles Magnusson."

"Oh, that." I took a long drag. "Accidental overdose, angry ex boyfriend doctor, and itchy trigger finger." I smiled.

"What happened to make you use?" He asked.

My face fell. My mind wandered back to John's wedding. "Its a habit. No reason."

"You're lying." He lifted his papers again. "Your tox screens were clean for months before. You hadn't used in a while. Why then?" He pointed to my hand. "The smoking is recent. Less than a year. You see, Ms. Holmes, I know more about you than you think." He cleared his throat and looked at me. I sat silent. "I know the day you overdosed was at John Watson's wedding. You two had been romantically linked. So let's talk about that."

"I don't have anything to say about that. I'm an addict. IYed, I hadn't in a while, that's true. I miscalculated the dose."

"Why? An addict wouldn't miscalculate."

"It had been a long day. I was tired." I was getting angry.

"What did you do that day?" He asked.

"I went out."

"Where?"

"Church." I spat.

"The same church Dr. Watson was getting married in?"

"No." I lied.

"Lying won't help you. I will fail you."

I stared at him. "Fine. Yes the same church."

"So you went to the wedding." It wasn't a question. A question requires an answer. "How long did you stay?"

"The beginning of the ceremony."

"Why did you leave?"

"I wasn't actually invited. I went and I left before anyone noticed."

He pulled some papers off and handed them to me. They were pictures posted to several different Facebook pages. Some focusing mainly on me, others caught in the background. "I'd say people noticed. Why the black dress?"

"Because I look wonderful in black." I blew smoke out slowly in his direction.

"Who ended the relationship between you and John?"

I stood then, "That is enough for today."

He remained seated. "You don't decide that, Ansley."

I rolled my eyes and began to walk around the room. "I ended it. Why, you'll ask. Because I don't do relationships. He was around too much, he was whiney, and it was time for him to go."

"Detective Greg Lestrade found you the night of your overdose. He seemed comfortable enough with you to climb through your window. Did you not have a relationship with him?"

I laughed, "Greg was sex. Amazing sex. But he was nothing more. Ask him why he felt the need to crawl through my window in the middle of the night."

"Fine. Let's move to the hospital. Dr. Watson was listed as your attending physician. He came to you the night of his own wedding. Why do you think that is?"

I began looking through the books on his shelf. Typical psychology text books, nothing interesting. "He wanted to make sure he could make my actions about him."

"Was he that type?" He asked as I turned to face him again.

"I told you. He was whiney. My brother died and I consoled him. Shouldn't it be the other way 'round?" I was making John the bad guy. He'd never been the bad guy. He was perfect.

"Not always. Some are more sensitive than others." He looked at his papers again. "It says here that the psychiatric ward decision was overturned the next day, but Mycroft insisted upon you staying. Why did he do that."

I smiled again, "I said something he didn't like. It was a lesson." I moved to his desk.

"What did you say?"

"Its personal." I looked around his desk. His desk lacked anything personal, as if he had just started.

"Was it about your sister, Eurus?"

I snapped around to see him. He was smiling.

Clapping began coming from the door. I locked eyes with my sister and watched her clap as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. "He's very good isn't he?" She asked moving toward the man.

"How are you here?" I asked her pressing myself as far back as I could.

She made it to the back of his chair rubbing her hand along his shoulders as she walked in my direction.

"Simple really. You should be able to figure it out."

"You shouldn't be out."

She closed the gap between us. "Oh, but breaking the rules is so much fun, dear sister. You got that from me. Sherlock too, though he wouldn't remember." She placed her hands on my face, "Now, you wouldn't go running to big brother about me, would you." She pouted slightly. "I came all this way just to see you. Didn't you miss me?"

I relaxed my body. "Of course, Eurus."

She released my face, "Good. Because you won't tell anyone about me. You're going to help me. I want to play a game with our dear brother, Sherlock. I'm going to make him remember." The ding of an incoming message sounded. She placed a single finger up and took her mobile from her pocket. She smiled. "Isn't he just so sweet?" She turned the mobile to me, displaying a screen of texts. I recognized the number immediately. It was John. She turned it back to herself and vegan typing. "You really saved yourself. Just a few months being married and he's already texting another woman." She made a disapproving clicking with her tongue. "It could have been you." She placed the phone back in her pocket. "Keep a close eye on them. I'll be in touch when I need you."


	32. Authors Note

Hi guys.

So after a bit of consideration, I've decided to not write the whole of the fourth season. Instead what I'll be giving you is the ending to my story.

My reasoning was, that through the beginning of the fourth season we can see the Ansley is in a considerable amount of trouble, so writing all the work she goes through would end up being repetitive.

I want to thank you for your continued support and continued reads of my little world. I may continue to update the side stories, but the next chapter will fittingly be the final chapter.

Happy reading,

Amanda.


	33. Chapter 3?

I woke, my eyes blurry and my head pounding. I was on the ground, possibly? I knew I was sitting up and that I was wet. I jumped to my feet.

"I have no idea. I can barely see anything." I heard a familiar male voice. "Mycroft?" It called. "Mycroft."

"No." I said loudly.

"Ansley?" Two voices came simultaneously. John and Sherlock.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock's voice boomed through an earpiece. John's voice was coming from just in front of me.

"Yeah." John responded.

"Yes." I said, finally coming to my senses.

"All right. Just keep exploring. Tell me anything you can about where you are." Sherlock instructed.

"Uh. Okay." He said.

I could hear his movements from the water at our feet.

"The walls are rough." He yelled. "Rock, I guess."

"What are you standing on?" Sherlock asked us.

"Stone." I said plainly.

"Listen. There is two feet of water." John added. I heard him moving again. "Yeah, my feet are chained up."

I bent down to feel my own ankels, also chained. "Mine too."

"I feel something." John called.

The water began lapping at my legs.

"Bones, Sherlock." He said. "There are bones in here."

I was paralyzed. I knew where we were. And I knew whose the bones were.

"What kind of bones?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh, I dunno." John said. "S-small."

Sherlock's voice was gone.

"Sherlock?" John called.

"He's gone." I answered.

"Where are we?" He asked me.

"We're in a well, John. And those are human bones." I said, slightly defeated.

"What?" He said.

We both began moving forward until we were as far as we could go and inches from each other.

He reached out grabbing my hand and holding tightly.

The clouds above us parted, allowing moonlight to illuminate the depth of the well. John's eyes met mine with panic filling us both.

"Sherlock?" John called again. "We're in a well. That's where we are. The bottom of a well."

He still didn't answer.

"Human bones?" John asked.

I nodded.

"How do you know? You haven't seen them." He reasoned.

"Because I helped put him here." I confessed.

He looked at me, confused.

I lowered my head. "Dad was alregic to dogs. That's all Sherlock ever talked about. Wanting a dog. That made altering his memories easier for Mycroft." I sighed. "Sherlock had a friend, Victor. Euros was jealous of him. All she ever wanted was Sherlock's attention." I stopped talking.

John squeezed my hand, "Its okay."

"Victor was always protective of me, but he was scared of her. Everyone was scared of her." I rose my eyes to meet his. "One day, she told me she wanted to go for a walk so I said okay. We came out to this well, I didn't even know it was here. Of course I was a year younger than her. That's when she told me we were going to play a game. She told me to pretend to be hurt and she was going to go get Victor. She knew I had a crush on him and any excuse to see him, I would agree with." I began to cry. "I had no idea what she was going to do, I swear I didn't know."

"How did the bones get down here?" He pushed.

"She brought Victor out to me. While he was checking on my fake injury, she told him I dropped my favorite toy in the well. I was too scared of her to say otherwise. She helped him get into the well, and then she made us leave. She told me never to tell or I'd end up in the well too." I was sobbing. I'd never told anyone about that day.

John wrapped his arms around me. Our chains yanking as we tried to get closer. "You were a kid. You didn't know." He soothed me.

"Why didn't Mycroft change your memories?" He asked still embrassing me.

"He thought he could change me. He thought she couldn't influence me if he mentored me." I squeezed on to him. "I didn't try to kill myself that night, John. It was a mistake."

"I know, love. I know." He shushed. He kissed my cheek softly. "We'll get out of this. I promise."

Our moment was suddenly over.

Water began to pour into the well. John released my body but remained clenched to my hand.

"Sherlock!" We began screaming.

He wasn't answering us.

John looked at me. "What are we gonna do?"

I was pankicing. "I don't know."

"John!" Sherlock's voice boomed. "Ansley! Can you hear me?"

"Yeah were here." I answered.

"Its flooding. The well is flooding." John yelled over the sound of water.

"Try as long as possible not to drown." Sherlock said, seriously.

"What?!" I yelled. Hearing Sherlock and my sister's voices coming over the earpiece.

"I'm going to find you. I am finding you!" Sherlock yelled.

"Well hurry up, please, because we don't have long!" John cried back.

After a moment of silence John began talking again. "There's something you need to know. Sherlock? The bones I found..."

"Yes? They're dog bones. Its Redbeard."

"Mycroft's been lying to you; to all of us." John said, looking at me through the water. "They're not dog's bones."

Sherlock's voice was replaced by Euros'.

"Its your turn sister." She said. "Behind you, behind a stone, you'll find a gun. Get it." John looked at me. "Go on, be a good girl and do as I say one more time." She taunted.

I released John's hand and moved to the wall I had woken up on. A loose stone revealed a gun. "Very good." Her voice came through. "Kill yourself and I'll release him." She commanded.

"N-No... NO!" John yelled.

I turned back to face him. The darkness of my past returning to haunt me as it always did.

"You're not. I won't let you!" He screamed.

Euros laughed. "Then you do it Dr. Watson. End the life of the woman you love. That's all you have to do and I'll let you go."

"I won't." He looked hard at me. I won't do it."

"Then we'll both drown!" I cried. Tears running down my face.

"Sherlock will find us!" He retaliated.

"What if he's too late?" I asked moving closer to him.

"I'd make a decision quickly Dr. Watson. Her life, or both." Then she was gone.

Though the water was raising, it was going slowly, which was lucky. For now. Looked at John. He grabbed ahold of my shoulders. "Don't let her ruin you." He said.

"She already has, John. Why won't you see?! I'm a killer. I've always been a killer. Let me be my last victim."

"No. You're a good woman. One of the best I've known. Don't leave me." He pleaded. His lips met mine. Water still pouring on us. Still rising.

The water was waist deep now.

"I did this. And I can fix it, John!"

"What do you mean?" He asked shaken.

"I helped her get to both of you. I kept tabs on you at work, behind Mycroft's back, it was innocent at first. But, when Euros came 'round, I gave her everything she needed. I let her know who your new therapist was, then I helped her kill her, so she could step in. I fed her a way to get to Sherlock through Culverton Smith. I knew he wouldn't turn down helping get a serial killer off the streets. Don't you see?" I cried. "I put you here and now I can get you out. Let me help you!" I took a deep breath, "Don't let your blood be on my hands to. Please."

Sherlock's voice came through again. He was talking about the dates on the tombstones, the fake tombstones outside our old estate in Musgrave Hill.

"Is this strictly relevant?" John asked.

"Yes it is. I'll be with you in a moment." Sherlock yelled before he was gone.

"Sherlock!" John screamed again. This time pleading with him to stop me.

"Tell him I love him."

"You'll tell him yourself." John yelled.

"And tell Mycroft, I'm sorry. Greg too." I lowered my head again. "I could never give him what he wanted. I belonged to someone else."

"You aren't saying your goodbyes." John threw his hands up. The water reaching the bottom of our chests.

"Tell him I did love him. Just not the way I should." I couldn't cry anymore. I knew what had to be done. "We're out of time." I said. The water now at the top of our chests. I was holding the gun above my head. "I love you, John. I'm so sorry for hurting you, but I won't let you die for my mistakes." I placed the gun on my temple and pulled the trigger.

"No!" John screamed as the gun went off and Ansley's lifeless body fell into the water.

He began struggling trying to free himself from the chains. It had been an empty promise.

As the water rose covering his chin, lights appeared over the well and a rope was lowered. A man in a divers suit slid down the rope. The water had stopped pouring in.

Ansley's head was floating still slightly above the water.

"Get her first! She's hurt." John shouted.

The man dove down releasing her feet from her chains. The rest of her body floated upward. John grabbed her hand, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, praying for her to still be alive.

The diver released John's chains.

When he resurfaced he looked at John. "Leave her. We have to get you out."

Tears welling in his eyes, he shook his head as he choked on his words. "I-I'm not leaving her. Not again."

The diver nodded and tied the rope around John and Ansley's waists. They were pulled out together. John still clinging to her when the reached the ground.

He felt for her pulse. He found none. He was crying. He touched his lips to hers again. "I love you."

Paramedics raced to his side, pulling him away from her. He watched as they checked her out and eventually laid a grey blanket, the same as the one the they placed across his shoulders, over top of her. He felt his heart break, again.

Greg walked out of the woods toward John.

"Detective Lestrade." An officer called.

He threw his hand up heading first to John. "You all right?"

"No. She's gone, Greg. Ansley." He whispered.

"What?" Greg asked shocked. He ran over to the body on the ground. "Identify." He commanded.

The officer lifted the blanket. Greg looked only for a moment before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Ansley Holmes." He said to the officer.

He went back to John. Leading him through the woods. "She wanted me to tell you something, Greg." He said breaking the silence.

"Not now, John." He pleaded.

John and Sherlock stood at a fence watching Euros being hauled away by the police. A short while later a stretcher rolls past them with a black body bag on top.

John and Sherlock lowered their heads as Ansley was loaded into

a nearby ambulance. Greg walked up to them.

"I just spoke to your brother." He told Sherlock.

"How is he?" Sherlock asked.

"He's fine. A bit shaken up. She didn't hurt him, just locked him in her old cell." Greg answered.

John murmured "What goes around comes around."

"Yeah. Give me a moment boys." Greg said beginning to walk away.

"Oh. Um, Mycroft. Make sure he's looked after. He's not as strong as he thinks he is. This may break him."

Greg nodded. "Yeah, I'll take care of it." With that he went to a fellow officer.

John turned to Sherlock. "You okay?" The night was finally over and he was now without two sisters instead of only one.

"I said I'd bring her home." He looked down. "I can't, can I? Either of them, now."

"You gave them what they wanted. Context and a reason to stop running." John answered.

"Is that good?"

"Its not good. Its not bad. Its..." He sighed. "It is what it is."


	34. Authors Note - Series 4 Update

The ending to this tale has been up for a while, so I'm sure we know how this ends. However, I am publishing more work for this story, focused on the 4th series. We'll see how Ansley came to the point of sealing her fate. these chapters will be published chronilogically and will begin as chapter 31. Thank you for your time and support


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